Infinity it is And I have nothing Even inspirations that untie To flutter Between fireflies and lampposts Sidewalks and dim clouds Trees and empty bottles Drift into air So that I can Inhale And while I hold my breath I can write symphonies in motion. But Lord, I could be bounded in a nutshell And count myself king But instead I Wash the feet of existence And indulge My owning of nothing in anything at all. I emerge out of nutshells Time after time To see colors Different in each light (While light creates color, It has none itself…) And I think that thoughts don’t belong to me And I am but a king In a nutshell that is in a nutshell On a nut-tree In dark soil Between earth and sky, In infinities…