Where I Meet Myself:Anahit's Muse

A poem from my book, available from Kobo.

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GIVE ME A NEEDLE!

Give me a needle and a piece of thread!
I would mend the holes all over the cloaks of frozen clouds trembling above.
I would stretch the thread along the air bridge.
Would it reach as high as the highest cliffs?
Any giant's spine looks a tiny pin compared with the way of my dreams.
I found myself in a vivid inn.
The inn does not have any stony walls and a roof on it.
Give me a needle and a piece of string to mend the thoughts that spring to be high.
Let us mix the wise chats with a day in flight.
Let us mend the holes on any worn hope, becoming a pile.