Collandin

The flower composes my mind.
My eye is a poem of the sun.
All of my petals of congealed light.
My heart’s fingertips are leaves and grasses.
When the wind becomes wings, I disappear.
Flying like water invisible, the breath of stars.
The garden is one of my minds, walking in time.
All of the scents like peculiar footprints.
Of dreamy reflections and desires, recollections.
Nostalgia’s shells (from seeds) are bones.
How we are born as sparks and flutters.