room 3.3

room 3.3

walking through thick fog hugging pale ghosts
i can’t even hear my own footsteps
glistening path on hands

raindrops and sounds as if from the basement
which is an empty space waiting to be filled
forms wait here, for a long long time

the path follows stone slab upon step
upon step, are we going upwards or down?
(it’s not so easy to tell)

my hands are growing old like a forest
it’s like they’re passing through things
instead of touching, retreating

patterns in the wood are good souls
their faces change but their eyes are the same