TREE
FOR ME

Lovely words
they flyer out of your lips and fly
zigzagging up into the sky.
you follow with your gaze,
and tremble with desire, to fly, to fly after they.
You are a poet.
Yes. Blessed and damned, unhappy condemned by yourself.
you collected by hard work
yours pain, that’s what you focus on, and shrink to a point,
your internal pressure divides you into atoms and scatter you
to the world.
you have to become a miracle, and while waiting for a miracle you sometimes forget
the creation
is your
consecrated
love