My hands have grown thinner

I resume life to the beginning

because I don’t understand Greek–

I lose my pearls.

Sun, the chosen God of this.

Reign me, make me shake these ruins

To the pillars I return–

turn statute with status of slave.

To white walls, I walk

with my eyes boasting what I don’t obtain.

These jewels, the jailed hair–

they are everything, Sun, to the show.

On stage, I undo,

touch wood and sum the skies.

For this gray is such pain;

the eyes of stones so useless.

Just be yourself, Sun

That’s what I learn today.