You are you in your own metallic universe

on your own dignified pathway.

In being yourself with the absence of

creation.

You are a dream,

a bird,

an inspiration.

you are the image, you are the blur.

In the mist of twilight, you are

the soft hail on earth.

you are the pale dry sky,

you are the thick wild grass.

you are the culture of solitude

you are the variation of essence

if the skies were to be drawn,

you would be the strokes,

you would be the afflicted imitation

you would be the sky itself.

you are the everlasting mystery

you are the anonymous beginning

you are the grapes of early season,

you are the pyramid of purity

you are the old,

you are the new

you are the palm through the window

you are the fraction of that epic flower

you are the silk of magic

you are the resonance of fortune

you are the sound of silence.

you are what you were, you are what

you have become.

you are what’s easy not to be.

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