See all the souls anchored to you
each faint and crackling golden line
like a nylon line, but neater,
each is a life you’ve saved in here.

You look like a heaven-flower
like an aurum tree. The firework
frozen in time, on the blue black
all the still-paths, the fizzing strings.

The key to self-hood is the gap
between what we would like to be
and what is. These things are all sent
to test us, see: to build us up

without these moments we would fall
again, into the depths of hell
which is a flat, blank, pool of white
like milk. But tasteless, vigourless.

Humans need this pain to grow full.
If there was fruit hanging from each
tree, we would never need to think,
never need a revelation.

And so, these two things connect us.
These metallic wires, our trellis.
To be saviour to each other
and see what newness can encroach


In looking for happiness right where you are
or farthest-star following –
what if you find that happiness requires
the acquisition of skeletons?
What if the last leap turns into a fall?

And you hit the golden rocks by the sea
or are dragged down into it
by the weight of all these childish things.
What if to be happy, you must
take someone else’s happiness without hesitation?

What if I am not strong enough to harm
in the end the one whom I love
who is stopping me from being happy?
No new island without castaways;
Oh I know who I am, And I hope it’s good!