Listen with the eyes

I sit quietly and observe. What…? I don´t really know.

I linger in the shadow of the awaiting objects. They are not in a hurry, they are their simple objectiveness.
But they are not just objects. I almost hear their sweet melancholy and quiesence.

They breath in their unobtrusive mystery. Am I the observer or the observed?…
They whisper…I hear with my eyes.

They wait in their abidance.

So do I…