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Moving Forward

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 The deep parts of my life pour onward,
as if the river shores were opening out.
It seems that things are more like me now, That I can see farther into paintings.
I feel closer to what language can't reach.
With my senses, as with birds, I climb into the windy heaven, out of the oak, in the ponds broken off from the sky my falling sinks, as if standing on fishes.

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