The note of the birdsong lies solidly
suspended in the hollow of blue space.

The temperature of my body is precisely
the degree of the world enveloping me.

A simple brushstroke, tapered glyphs
weighty enough to have gravity, flutters.

About you I watch dusty particles dance
in light that is more than merely a halo.

Illumination.

©  Chagall ∞

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