After all, the leaves have now fallen.
holding the thoughts that leave the trees.
Look how the streets have now been covered.
Laying flat as the pages you often see on my desk.
And I know not, whether to look for spaces in between them
Or to just gently press them beneath my feet.
If the wind plays her game hiding her cards.
Am I to run and chase after her and be played
like a record playing to please the listener’s heart?
Or am I to ignore every thing
and stomp my feet and tell the earth ‘I exist’.?
Or to take the form of the wind?
Take the leaves with me.
Take them higher than all the trees.
(The Stories beneath the eyes)