outside of my window

there is a sun.

we look at each other,

finally, into each other’s eyes.

and people screaming

and a violin streaming

as long as the ghost can see

the river, in its eyes.

the wind

knows the bottom

of the stream.

so remember that

every time you look

and don’t see.

there is no truth-

why else
over
and all
would there

be
the
deepest
light?