The new dress

We come to the morning forest among the spots of lights and the shadows; 
among the fronds and its shades, there is a mobile stillness
 and we hold with both arms our freezing knees

Only in this way, it can it be a place to be.

This transient clarity in the thickness of the dark forest, 
this greener sea subject to the wind formations, this drainage toward the clouds, 
this coldness landscape, attached to the passage of the sun 
──and to the passage of others "those thoughts" like feathers, croaks and croaks ──
This is our place of birth.
 
You also heard a blink. Did you hear it; did you see it?
Early camping magic, lighting tiny fires for the interstice, 
but only minimum fires among what was seen and what is seen again
 ──it's a blink of your tear drops in the wind ── .

"Newly dressed", and you feel just fine; yet another and the same.

What has changed then?

All has changed. 
All has changed among the one who sees and the other ── that oneself who watches the things seen.
 
A flicker; the deed, the interval in which everything has changed, 
presents a performance without a program.

That was the weather before. 
This is the growth. Then occurs the crack in the sequence of thoughts.

Then moves again the tree that sings and dances, rocking its fronds until the afternoon light.

Then a lonely bee will end its search, buzzing, 
it will enter the conference room.
 
That is when the thing and the "do" will smile to the one who is appearing.