The Same Floor (Poem)
The clouds are white,
and the sky is stretched
with thousands of lines.
A monochrome world.
My body, of course,
is the same.
Even the trees exist as lines.
Walking along that tree-lined path,
I spend a time
that is neither day nor night.
A solitary square building
gradually grows larger,
and I am drawn
into its entrance.
I step through
an open door.
Get Japanese Nobu spiral pen artist’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Inside the elevator,
every button reads
“the same floor.”
I press one,
and the elevator
begins to rise.
I open a door
with my name written on it,
pick up a book
from the table,
and sit on the sofa.
There,
I find myself —
and the scene I just saw
is drawn inside the book.
The clouds are white,
and the sky is stretched
with thousands of lines.
A monochrome world…
