Certainly

  living here

     pastels are no longer any use

here

  scenes that pass and go

being is what I have

  asking questions of yourself

            or shutting yourself in a cage

   leaving messages on photographs

here

    windows thrown wide to the sun

            what there is

lights that light up the dark

      angels are born

where the sky rests

    only in this way

and when the sky takes a rest

                  I too will rest

it is only when the sky is calm

                         I will rest

and only silence will remain to talk to me