A log on my sofa is
watching through the window
the potentiality,
in the facing cement holes.
With tired hands
Hey attendees!
Light, tones, and furniture
A dream is wandering in perpendicular mirrors;
Bare-walled room.
Distant sparks delude, of
kindling, the firewood of the soul.
How could you be identified with this momentum!?
In the last scene
Nero calls his love,
She comes with a lyre;
How real- are these flames!?
Scale Fixing 