If I'd fit in the windowsill
I'd plant myself in your direction,
I would use the sun's energy
to make this place you destination

How dare I hate this space I occupy,
I'm left to my devices,
turning to light
I'm waiting for the cue,
To beckon to the shoot,
And break the crust upon the soil

Lack of light the iris expands,
My eyes absorb a power coming
from behind my dim room,
In my den amber and damp,
As if lit by faith alone,
I've been more faithful than you know