You dream, aware that it’s a dream, and when you wake up, you wish to dream again because there, sheltered in your memories, you are free to dance and imagine and relive, to remember and walk with another body, with someone else’s eyes.
And in the end, you get the answers you seek.
But a rapid breath doesn’t let you hear, as if the room you’re in had turned into a spring,
the spring of winds.
And you hear the echo of a word coming from between the walls, bouncing all around,
and you start to laugh
and cry.