I will defy the movement of language With syllables soft before the snow For Autumn in the fewest chosen words Along lines of simple alphabets
In the palm of my listening I will observe you walk as a poem Skips across ethereally this earth With colors and bodies of Christmas
An instantaneous impression of beauty I will sing a lullaby to the irreproachable sky And kiss the poem-greeting letters That dissolve as a soul among the trees
And the centre of music That is a living expression of the times Today the sun comes out in your poem And I listen for the poem I will write in reply
I will be a hero of a recluse today, again With an inner smile of jewel-pointed clarity That the imagination is a universal thing The night’s sheerness of black gardens
A voice from which religions spring Spiritual movement completes itself In an intuitive release of meaning A letting go of the sadness of having come
And gone, like death, poetry takes me there As a river of music, entering my blood Chilling me with a serotonin symphony The joy of being here, the glances and reflections
Of existence, mirroring poetry Between silence and music The snow and sun, men and women The rain and drums stalk my fantasies.