Light of Connection

In the morning, nothing but a thin layer of cloud floats by
there is the light of connection, a kind of purity of being

And so much humming inside, move in another life
carry it around, the sky does not forget the colour

Blue is not blue enough, how else are we measure
in a world where words are woven like tapestries --

River I know, one that does not flow or changes its course
voices first, then letters soak in inverted colours.

It's time to open up the secret that we never want to hear
undo the air of loneliness, the leaning shadows

take a few things with them, in going some way
towards sun and shadow. Whispers thicken the air.

Emptiness stirs in another life in absence of light, then
lays bare those unused syllables, those muted rhythms,