Thursday, March 22, 2012

Back Home

The light of dawn hits the window
and I walk out in a fresh wind.
At night, I am watching my breath,
while the blue deepens around me.
I do not move while my breath rises
I do not move while it falls.

I had thought for so long
that my attention was somewhere,
waiting for sunrise.
But it is the window,
golden or black.

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