In the room
in the afternoons
through trees
through curtains
and half closed shutters.
Through the shine
in my space
in waves touching
walls and floors.
Through centuries
through minutes becoming hours
through hours becoming days.
In moments
in mornings of gazing
in evenings of contemplation.
Gathered through eyes
perceived in the inner darkness
glowing on lamps turned off.
On books, on desks
on pencil holders
and on armchairs.
The brass Samowar
the nutwood table
the old terracotta pots.
Everything lays in light
even the shadows.
We believe we get our bearings
but no evidence show we will.
Though nothing has been announced
our thoughts and our feelings
are ready to lay in our favourite light.
Illustration by Galya Popova
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