 |
| Welcome to solitude. Click to enlarge. |
Reading alone, and in fine company,
Surrounded by the drowsing woods,
The writer's thoughts inside my thoughts,
Touching that way, tenderly
Inside the world inside the book,
The world outside the world.
The universe is mostly made of thoughts.
Our faces, too, will soon be flying
Through the painted air,
Through the blue upper light.
–with lines by Franz Wright
