Whoever you are: go out at evening,

leaving your room, where everything is familiar;

between you and the distance lies your house:

whoever you are.

With tired eyes, that scarcely pull themselves

up and away from the warn-down threshold

you slowly lift up one black tree

and place it against the sky: slim. alone.

And you have made the world. And it is large

and like a word that’s ripening in silence.

And as your will takes in the sense of it,

your eyes can gently let it go…