Att veta om saker som luft och ljus
En annan dag ingenstans
Han vände sig om
Kände att han sågs
Och blev en skog

hquo834ih · bE–¥™(.}Ü—∞

mere experience not seen

all stillness in air

up where the river




breathe in my ear, smile

voices in harmony

speaking of my desire

I point to the tree

“come, friend, will you do the same?”

this is a tree of pain

at night, a soldiers face

bells to the re-enactment

whispering about the future

footsteps through the water

talk of rebirth, nothing more



silver birds observe a corpse

hollow trees wreathed in mist, offering

I would fly to find some one

that looks on from the narrow window

who, at this hour,

knows there is no light

All these things I actually made. But what I see in the foreground is made up of millions upon millions of smaller, simpler things I didn’t make. Those things have more to do with the sky than the clouds or the snow. I’ll try to explain: The sky is not blue. The water is not red. The clouds aren’t white. The grass is not black.

I think the clouds were made of mountains. There were mountains made of mountains. And there was snow at the top of those mountains. It wasn’t even snow, because I think snow would melt. So I think the mountains were made of stone. And then the clouds were made of clouds, and as I was standing on top of the mountain I was sure, I could see clouds below me. And so I thought, there it is. The clouds were made of things I didn’t make. And they were made out of things that really didn’t matter. Like snow.

The point is, things in the sky don’t even have names to describe them. They lack characteristics. The words are irrelevant because the sky is blue and the sky is green and the sky is yellow all at once. The sky is not green. The sky is not yellow. The sky is red.

It’s going to rain
The sky is gray and the air is still
You’re still a kid who never learned to dance
Just sitting around waiting for someone to open the door
The rain begins. Rain
And the sky turns
All around is darkness
You can feel it in your bones
The rain hits you in your bones
This is how you have to be
You were really lucky to be one of those kids
You were blessed with so much
You are just a young man
And you are not a bad person
Why would you want to leave the world just like that?
Because there will be rain for the rest of your life
There was so much joy you had before
So much sadness you’ve forgotten now
A lot has changed
Some of it gone
Some of it just buried
It’s the same with the rain

hquo834ih · alusta