Sometimes the true nature
of a picture is hidden by its frame
and when you take it out
it renews itself again.
Sometimes the true meaning
of a text is masked by its cover
and what you thought a holy book
concerns the memoirs of a lover.
Sometimes the danger
of the ocean is hidden by its calm
and when you swim the pleasant sea
you are battered by its storms.
Sometimes the outward-ness of I
steals a hidden core
and only in tiny moments
do I become a little more…