I lay on a bed
closest to me is the sugar, the apple and the wine.
Closer still is the card deck of consciousness
On the top lays judgment
If I change this, it is not I.
If what around me changes
So do I.
Closest to my ears is a marching music
that accompanied the apostles to the grave
-and union.
This room is a mess.
At my feet lays a library
it will not find a place closer to me.
Closer to my heart is my breathing,
closer to my love is sunlight,
but the clouds have not passed in days-
they went once, but I was sleeping.
These are my growing pains.
