My soul has been absorbed.

The black ink is my path

and this piece of paper is like the wing of a dove.

But this piece is only half the wing.

The other wing I have eaten

in my impatience to be free.

I must learn to fly outside of myself.

I must try to understand.

Even if it means I would forever refuse it.

I must drench my entire life in black

until all the other pieces of paper in the world

have fused into one.

Then I will soar in a colour of gold.

And that blinding light in my eye

will be ink still flowing from me.

2009