Thoughts On Doing Collage (2025)

with every move
a story reshapes
the circle, not the center,
but a planet beyond
the cosmos i once called mine
now it became ours

i watch a fragment,
hear the bluebird’s song
then gently, it shifts,
becomes a fish
with paper wings
taking flight

like this morning
my back cooled by lakewater,
eyes lifted to a sky
so wide, so endless
it swallowed me—
and i forgot:

i have no fins,
but i could choose to fly,
and see myself from above,
becoming a small point
the futher i go
i see

i‘m only a small dot in this