Looking for a constellation

As if shouting out in the words of someone else would make the awaited difference.

As if what an other once expressed would be connected directly to me.

As if the presence of understanding makes explanation irrelevant.

Is it only when you speak of mysteries that you feel attracted to being alone?

As if anyone had the right to question what it is that goes on
under those layers of skin and fat, all the way to the bone.

NO ONE asks these questions for the simple reason of finding out

No one asks THESE questions in order to understand


As if the meaning of all that goes on underneath
was to hold no meaning

As if the lines that connect would get lost on the way from one point
to another

As if there was nothing in between.

how many petals can you count to?

Are they five split in two and does that mean 10?

Does the colour change depending on who it is who tries to reach for them?
Will there be a wind hard enough for me to have to shield my eyes?

Is rain complete with flowers the only rain I can endure?

Are there branches that turn when there's no wind?
Are there hands that reach higher than mine?


Do you want to choose the colour this time?

Let there be

s o n g

Science of waves

For a long time I've been in waiting.
And it hasn't been a time I've actively analyzed.
Now I' m aware of so much more than only the details that show in the light.
Surely there have been times when I have forgotten.
Understand, there are times I still remember.
Barely take a step and walk.
Surely there are movements in time that I can hold hands with.





To feel that I am more to waves than the flesh and blood that surrounds me.
To think that we are more to each other than words mouthed can ever say.

To be what we are, close to the sure.
To be what we are.


Waves on the shoreline move back out into the open waters.

Sisters,

After all,
you are the wind that suggested I have wings.












Y
Little heart is growing up