I am the slave who frees the master.
I teach the teacher.
I am essence born freshly every day.
I built the ancient civilizations.
I brush medicine on fading eyesight.
I relight intelligence.
In grief, I am pitchblack darkness.
On a feast day, the children's excitement.
I am the ground who fills the sky's brain
with fiery lightning-love, air, wind.
You could not sleep last night,
too happy with how I was remembering you.
No one is to blame that sometimes
I am a scandal, or obviously unfair.
The surface is rusting over.
I had better go into silence.
I am breathing too close
to this mirror's face.
