Is the time now to lay down my pen?
Because I have no place to go?
Because the steps from my door
lead nowhere?
The words still come in my sleep.
I go to a window
and they fly from my heart.
But the journal of myself remains blank.
Lift me, sky, into your soul.
Dissolve me in the silver of the zenith.
Trees, lift me piece by piece
to your branches.
Let me go to the very end of your fingers.
Let me dissolve like a dream.
I have come from the river
of a very great tree.
I flew off as a shadow,
as a promise,
when does a journey end?