my ribs were pierced and the last vestige of life kept pouring out. and when the last word was said, my body was lain among the mute.
I was a carpenter once, yet I will Soon be carved from wood To sit in silence like furniture, all dressed up and well kept with expressions on my face:
Of pain, of hope, of kindness.
But let us keep our eyes on what cannot be seen. What is visible is seldom what it shows.
A man I once knew kept with him a jar of seawater He reasons that when he wakes up He is reminded by the vastness of the sea. And he embraces its fragrance:
Salt and water.
Can not a jar claim a portion of the sea as his? Or to put it in perspective is it not the sea that embraces us? Our mouths and minds are still, left open and dull in silence Waiting perhaps in solitary meditations or in many tongues we will talk. and the crowd will call us drunk.
I and my other self are one. But soon, after I have gone another will take my place, he will embrace us like the sea Even in places where no sea is in sight. One thing is certain: salt. The tasteless air will ink new births of sea.
Today let us clothe ourselves in the nakedness of our adopted innocence. We will walk with the many and again converse in the greater garden.