soul.

You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream, and you are like the word Mencholy.

I like for you to be still，and you seem far away.

It sounds as though you were menting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.

And you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you:

Let me come to be still in your silence.

And let me talk to you with your silence

that is bright as a mp,simple as a ring.

You are like the night, with its stillness and consteltions.

Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.

I like for you to be still, it is as though you were absent,

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