Impressions
Fog, red trees, and a layer of yellow leaves. A small cat on my page, as small as a chipmunk, while swirling, reverberated intonations and tremors and beats.
Such beating instrument sometimes scares me as having a clock on my chest. It goes and goes on its own, feeding my otherwise cold body.
So I ask such song to take this bundle of laws to take them away. Take the rain out of my home hearth, feed this fire, make religion all that is not, and pull infinite out of myself.