the flight is a bird

I know who I am
the noise of the crowd is not my concern
I recognise silence
that feeling important things are happening
the water of the river should not be disturbed
for what leaves
before coming properly

the human mind is too poor
love the highest sign of freedom
cannot be traded
the flight is a bird not the other way

I have learned that time
this silkworm
bites off the core of the earth
the leaves just a pretence
that every shadow in the great scheme
carries a soul in its arms
that I own no one except for myself
my suffering a proof
that I am alive again
and have the courage to grow old by loving

art by Marius Bucur-Sabo