hush
I had a strange dream last night: I was looking up at the sky, and it was very, very light, and soft; and hight, hight above me it seemed to be slowly boiling, like light that had materialized, like the fibres of a sunlit fabric, like silken, living stitches in a piece of Japanese embroidery. And those tiny fibres, light-bearing, living threads, seemed to be moving and floating and becoming like birds, hovering, so hight up that they could never be reached. SO hight that it the birds were to lose feathers the feathers would’t fall, they would fly upwards, be carried off and vanish from out world forever. And soft, enchanted music was flowing down from that great height. The music seemed to sound like the chiming of little bells; or else the birds’ chirping was like music. “They’re storks”, I suddenly heard someone say, and I woke up.