Dense and deep, the darkness
finds us at the table
with the leftovers of the day
still scattered around.
Quiet.
Silence is garrulous.
Eyes glued to nothnig.
Mind ever-moving.
Timeless images.
Pictures in black and white
clipped, disconnected.
The soul insensible to tears.
Perishing is unmitigated pain.

Measuring my strength,
against the sounds
escaping from closed windows.
O heaven!
you saw me
escaping
from your garden.
Pale
as the mist.
I walked
along paved pathways
and found myself
behind
blood-stained doors.
You reacted.
I spat in your face.
You gave me the kiss of Judas Iscariot

O Janus, my god,
show me your
two faces tonight.
You hid them from me, for so long.
I will leave you.
Don't you touch me.
Put on me a mask of plaster
And then be gone...

Day one,
and there was light.
A path out of chaos.
A radiant beam of hope.
I opened my eyes to the unconceived.
A fiery hand
touched my palm,
leading me to unknown paths.
Ninth hour of the morning!
I was born in the sea.
I am unvisible, unseen.
Plankton they call me.
Chance met shells
and anemones my companions.
I played with the sand,
was one with the waves,
sipped at oxygen and salt.
The Eternal God told me:
"Before night comes you will have become food".

I didn't unedrstand it.
I was afraid
"You are unfinite.
You will be reborn in the morning".
This reassured me.
But who can wait for the morrow?
I saw a glowing star.
It slipped to the horizon.
"That must be my soul
ready to take flight.
The Moon laughed at me with bitterness.
"I' m sorry for that".
Weeping,
I drifted into the redeeming arms of sleep
Day two.
Morning.
Death spat me into the bowels of a great whale.
It is called "Leviathan".

I am reborn.
"I inhabit a green seaweed.
It tickles my body and I arise".
I saw the light which transpierced me.
Creation is a cycle.
Creation in its cycle engenders All.

The north wind was always blowing
as I mounted
the staircase of that dream.
On the way I always found
fallen leaves
shed from the trees,
I had planted in my imagination.
The Autumn of a woman...
Two drops of bitterness
on the eyelashes.
Plucked petal by petal.
Abandoning the struggle.
I used to hold them in my hands
and wish on them
But none has come to pass...