Tonight nobody’s your nest
but your nest is in everybody’s
chest.
If your soul embodies in a tree,
may it leave the ground,
may it be the ground
and be, surely see
what’s left of your flesh.
Fancy the weather in a little bubble.
You won’t remember
where the storm started from.
And like a promise it raises
the question
Will anyone be my nest
tonight?
Will I be everybody’s nest
tonight?
Be the sun for me
in a tiny moment
of oppression.
Be the sun for me
in a tiny moment
of suspension.
Whenever it’s always,
and always becomes the right time,
adore me,
adore being me
as I adore being your
iris.
Adore me,
as I adore being your
nest.
And be my nest tonight
as I am everybody’s nest
in everybody’s chest.
In your chest
and in a pulse
of rest.
In the life of a breath
I long for
and protest
and weep
and build afar
my sacred silver
nest.//
