The light turns the indifferent wall into a ghostly theatre of reflections. --- And I find myself in the middle of an eye, watching myself in its blank stare.

A tree grew inside my head.
A tree grew in.
Its roots are veins,
its branches nerves,
thoughts its tangled foliage.
Your glance sets it on fire,
and its fruits of shade
are blood oranges
and pomegranates of flame.

Day breaks
in the body's night.
There,
within,
inside of my head,
the tree speaks. 

Come closer---can you hear it?

Freedom,
freedom for all...
It is true?