Butterfly here

butterfly there

everywhere, losing count

I must be a candle

or the change itself

The conflict pit

that lives in my stomach

I put a smile there today

it changed colour

it became new conversations

So I took my shoes off

There's no antisolar point

today, yesterday

it's white up and down

But my toes are dancing

catching the comfort

of the fire stove in my heart

at home

Let's speak in such rhythm

that the most aware part

lands on the pulse

of the golden ratio - the wrist

Tell me how rare

something is

so we can hoarseness

each other to seeing

the other way