first step, to take up the pen,
ponder it,
as instrument—
a piece of paper then,
as white and infinite
as the light—
“A little light,” “Si-ghting 53” and “Letter—for Fernando Pessoa”
As for the darkness of eternity
a little light by your bed
might do as the wind
flings itself against your wall
weathering all away
“sounding 21”, “si-ghting 4” and “What”
tired of waiting he writes
while there’s timeand the white space
to trace the light’s line
from place to place
from all the corners of his mindfind
the dust of all that’s gathered there