Light, please initiate me into your
occult philosophy. Tell me where
you come from when you penetrate
the dusty window in the morning and
find me thus – staring into the nothingness.
Sometimes you show me very beautiful
things that I am still trying to comprehend.
Like a pair of beautiful female legs
semi-concealed into the twilight of
your brightly absence. How many stories
do we need so this moment could be
The others have old photo albums.
The others have skies to cry beneath them.
But you can find me thus – thoughtful
and staring into the darkness of this page.