I’m worthy of sinking behind clouds when I need to Lightness, that I feel loosening from my grip

The earth has been bitten into by darkness Blood pulsates and becomes part of the light

Sand, but I slip through Cracks in the marble Like the ink the bled out through my wounds  You opened your mouth  Words came out The sculptor wonders  if he spoke too soon Thin fibres encased in the clay (of doom) art, creativity

What about running on a beach Like a child runs? A freedom Of reckless abandon poetry no borders

What am I to you? How do I read?