Halfway through the night, alone in my bed, I breathe out
with a dying man’s last word on my lips— Believe.
Let belief fill up my days. Days spent surrounded
by the humming of bees. Days spent living with
the odour of smoke from burned-out fires. Oh,
I have seen some small demonstrations that love is real.
I have seen that desire makes a difference.
On the threshold between thought and dreaming I pass
myself on a stair. One of us is going up, the other down.
I believe that even dreams make a difference. I believe
that a whole life might stand or fall on just a few words.
