we are dreamers inside a cosmic dream, i speak to you mostly clearly in the night, when my thoughts grasp onto the walls and waterducts of your sleep like some climbing plant. when the moon is the fullest, we enter the mythical. that is to say, the realm of risk. for the first time, i felt i had something to lose and myths began to thrash and generate within me. always, the gods were the last to arrive, silly and drunk with nectar. then we two, full of pleasure, so much that it felt illicit. compared to the life of a leaf, that have no gulf of wanting, we definitely owe some sacrifice to time, in our human form. 

but then i wake because something nibbled at my line. in a soft pond of repose, everything shook and the leaves stuck out their tongues. voices came out of silence, saying something i could not. tell me then, which is the way i take, out of which door do i go, where and to whom? 

there is a small song. some slow clouds. october arrives begging for water water water.