For whom do I create?
For you, for me?
For some imagined audience
Quiet as the still night?

I think I create
For that soul
Which cannot survive without
That creation

Is that you?
Someone else?
Or some hidden part of me?

And if it is the last
How can I know him better?

So often does the wind
Change its course
And I am forced to wonder:
Do I force through?
Tack west against nature?

Or do I follow?

So often I see the stars
And wonder at worlds above
What we could see
What we could find
If there, above it all
There is a world
For me
Then I remember
When I look in your eyes
That right before me
Is a world all my own