if you could see the shapes
the landscape makes,
hear the inevitable sigh of the wind
as it blows through your churches
and factories and graveyards

if you could kiss the breath of the sea
and chase its tides into the distance,
or watch stars falling
from the palms of angels
in white dresses

you would cover yourself in night,
leave the house in secret
and take to the streets
like they were your lover.
and you would not return.

poetry came first,
then later, the world.