I love the stillness-
Oh, how I love it when the
Light must fight its way in through the cracks in the drapery, soon to be shut out-when the peacock call is answered with silence,
When my bed is soft and feathers float, you can even hear them, in the cold air-the loudest thing here is color, and even it is muted.
The dust sings-the chorus placates me back to sleep, my hair sliding across the pillow, these simple things happening-
The rest of the world drowned out to the silent chorus in my own bedroom.
So beautiful is the melody of simplicity, of silence-
It is sad-it is a tragedy, it is Zen, it is Buddha-I cannot let it go-
It goes by me-flows around me,
I fall back asleep. I have no mission,
My mission is to slide my hair from one end of these pillows to the other,
Catching dust