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.