My invisible things, that I do:
I`m walking in valley,
I`m thinking of you and I see:
I`m real. And not.
My invisible things, that I feel
I`m creating from my mind
And violently want them to be.
And I see:
They can be for real.
But they aren’t.
My invisible wishes,
Where violin’s breath
Is slipping gloomily
Into this August’s silence
Of the Garden’s dreams.
And I`m dancing and watching
This.
Is real.