Your trailing starlight woven with silver needles Enters the mundane life of human days; And magical tongue recounts miracles uncounted, In magnitudes of unexpected ways.
Your vision never balks at walls or ceilings; An artist's heart is not like other things, The words like hope in slowly burning censors Take to the sky, once given freedom's wings.
I have a dear poet friend named Yelena, whose writing always astounds me.