...The thing with no name,
Surrounded by sadness,
That kind of sadness
Penetrating  its silence,
That kind of silence
Searching the tears,
Those tears
Becoming cubes of light,
Those cubes  wondering
On their situation of their becoming,
Being involved in a movement
Apparently anarchic,
Needing, ''a priori cognoscible'',
Synthetic truths
And empirical postulates
On the shape of their inner dislocation,
Their shear looping into unstable equilibrium,
Needing a stable equilibrium,
Becoming emblematic symbols
Of the diminishing boundary
Between real and unreal,
That cubic thing withdrawing itself,
Slowly becoming
Memory....