Things will be gone, when something move

Poem #109

The scattered notes strike the walls,  
imitating  
the drops of a rain that has just begun.

And a cloud resting on a martini coupe —  
I do not know how it will answer,  
how it will sing.

Whatever motif I wish to write,  
I wait,  
so this song will not tear  
the soft strings apart.

Be my brightness, O earth.  
You carry these notes from every corner,  
for I will never possess  
what you already hold.

You do not need  
to sip martini from a glass  
like I do.

O earth, remain bright.  
You may howl like wolves,  
you may lie down and dream too.

You will not break the soft strings like I do,  
you will not burn the place  
where faith once disappeared.

I may walk,  
and they will see me  
as a sound from far away.

I will remain like plastic,  
absorbed into the grass,  
and through the sky  
I will look upon you.

I will come closer to your path.

I take my time,  
and I slow it down.