I realized my voice became a crystal Speaking to eyes
I was unpeeling an orange to emit its juice as if
the eyes would realize I was opening a window3
For them into a corridor, they started walking
a balance Of symbols they could use to lead them to
the breeze rocking your boat, float, caress your face
when scared to be alone on your boat do not .
What turns the secret sea into a crystal? My voice into
My heart becoming lost, its balance has a fortune that
can salt water and grow a fruit like an orange.
There is no going back when you walk into that corridor.
Especially when you stare at every window
which is closed. You have a window I told you
within you if only my boat you board
walk scary a corridor It is not that down
When you hold my crystal offers you my finger
dark blue Within me orange is it your touch ?
It is colour. You see the balance is loneliness needs its reason
Of colouring, when the balance is alone it has no colours
Out of which it can be a difference, what they are is a window
To being what they are distinct, together, many of them are orange
When they fall asleep in imagination they paint their boat
Carrying the psyche of their being a balance before it becomes a crystal
I wonder then where to one must walk when there is no corridor?
dark You imagine it. A long corridor is like a narrow pathway.
Only not. Close Hold me. Your balance will you have found
By the time you change the crystal of my coloured
human on the boat
It is just how words can fool you
when you do not look out of their window
If you do, you will find that this word
can be part of your story orange
make it orange though the time is up to you to make it
you do not need to walk down a corridor if you like
Fly instead without worrying about the boat
So long as you hover you will be in balance
pull the blinds and transfer my window
Look out, look out of the window, there is the crystal
Of my words on the boat painted orange
Like my own crystal shining down the corridor
Of your balance now look, look out of your window.
