Oh my
One eye
Through glass
From all the farce
This was something true
Who are you, my precious?
Why a gem lay in this crevice?
“Me? I know not half of what you do
I am nothing much but less than a few”
Ah and who did speak such to enlighten you?
All the built theories came tumbling down
Emptied from the rush without a sound
And words for a moment left her
“I keep to my place always
I stay and plainly blaze”
And that is simply it
Of you to us give
So stay still


This is the finding of yourself

On a mat as your workbench

Your hand steadied your heart with a pencil

And everyone around you saw it.

You uncovered a part.


When the birds flew away

You held one back and

Put yourself in its cage

To grow a heavy feather.


Heap of flesh

Back bended

Heart pulling you down because you refuse to let go of anything bad.

Hanging alive.


You are searching

Not looking

But finding,

On a mat alone when no one knows you,