No Problem
From the garden of restraint
I come
My path is made of dust

No problem
The tiger rests in my lap
Fingers circle over furrowed brows
The beast snores

No problem
Everywhere phantoms eavesdrop on us
Their grimaces are black and lonely
They remain silent

No problem
Earlier a sunbeam wrote to me
A stateless person
She fights

This path is made of dust
And I am no one
Of the described
Forever in the chamber of pyramids