March 30, 2004 - 3:39 pm
The birds here don't stop. Two thirty in the morning I wander in, humbled and clean, and outside they're talking like not so quiet gossip- like a song you can hardly hold inside.
And in this sky there is a star- one from a million- and something in that star makes me believe it all.
It's true. It's all so true. All culminates into one little light tempered to my own weak eyes. it is not blinding but it is brilliant- and it makes me start spontaneous conversations with the trees- with the grass who never forgot green... and with you.
You are here and unseen.
