I cannot say

when you are so full...
your footsteps, fragments
of sparkling nets
throwing themselves on dark
slippery, rippling echoes,
i cannot say
what is so ephermeral about you
forever breaking into
odd laughters
throwing me off...
the clouds are your clothes,
drifting...
covering and recovering in the silence.

the invisible hands which move
the mini waves, strokes...
the images which blur, become electric,
bulge,
these are the echoes of colors,
these are the echoes of things that are.

you are there in the sky
like a hole that leads to a world of light,
moving, letting the light in and out.

i cannot say what you are
and how you will appear and disappear
into...