I listen to the birds, you're singing.
All the while, my 'I', lives her life simply in melancholy, slowly deeply sinking.

A flower bloomed And I went past, you're bleaming.

The star has made its turn around,
still wishing .
that Light would come to you say Hi,

yet My, still waiting till the moon is reached,
awhooped -
love-steaming.

By all this while
the past has stayed the past,
your wish has blade into
the sauce of honey's meadow sky, now blinking

A try
to make a holdful fist of light,
false-thinking.

A Past has reached a history,
still sinking.

I listen to the birds you're singing...
she framed whole holy golden sky,
has flamed a dewing lullaby,
will set its little blaming eye,
and us,
believing.