look,
dreams turn into frost flowers
here only
the flight of birds pierces the glow of sunset,
then the moon
spills its lexicon of silence over the forests
oh, I taste this paradox
I am fully a self only when
I can let go of an I
when I am you, this silence, this voiceless pain
and I don't need a self to be mine
look, here
only I and the birds know the elevation of silence and
your hands know the monologue of time