Because They Are Inside Them

In the paper you can read the names.
In the sky the names read you.
In the morning, the fires become your heart.
In the evening, the shadows make new eyes.

You may see yourself departing for a door.
In a window, your own eyes return your gaze.
I have a secret that is made of a tiny portion.
Of every year there has ever been.

Under our tongues.
Is where the Tree of Knowledge lives.
And the Angel spins a sword.
In all the directions there ever are.

Reading the silent names.
In the sky of the morning.
In the door of the window.
In the eyes of my tongue.