I was poured into the first spring rain
the always screaming sand moaned as my
wetted silence rippled his way to the nearby river,
seeping through the arid caves of my desert dreams
as if the rotten paint of old was suddenly touched
by the blooming scent of apple blossoms
long has it been since I first became the sea?
countless mirrors are shattered by
a simple act of seeing
as if the circle became aware of its corners
without ever losing its eternal flow
long will it be before the sun nurses the first shy leaf?
yesterday I was poured into the first spring rain
today I'm on my way home
- and the wind keeps blowing -