Life hears the weather’s confession
before choosing its clothes.
Hands gaze up at the sky
come together furtively.
Could this solitary presence be
the daring landscape of the soul?
Can it be true that calm exists
as a measure of weather?
What use is a foolish man
who knows nothing of life?
No one will take you seriously
if you don’t believe in what you’re doing.
No one will believe what you ‘re saying
if you show up in the nude.