Happy, not from anything that happens.
Warm, not from fire or a hot bath.
Light, I register zero on a scale.



Burning with longing-fire,
wanting to sleep with my head on your doorsill,
my living is composed only of this trying
to be in your presence.



Begin as creation, become a creator.
Never wait at a barrier.
In this kitchen stocked with fresh food,
why sit content with a cup of warm water?



I stand up, and this one of me
turns into a hundred of me.
They say I circle around you.
Nonsense. I circle around me.