From each of your fingertips thousands of rivers flow to water the barren desert of my soul.
Seeds grow in me and each of them becomes a tree for you to sit under its shadow and watch the dance of a blue butterfly.
The butterfly changes into me.
I go up the tree over your head and hang my hair downward that you come up.
You reach for the sun,
The sun changes into a white dove and sits right on your generous shoulder.
It’s getting dark.
The white dove changes into the moon. You see your picture in the moon.
The moon is me…
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