BEING – I am on an endless beach, my soul unfolds unadvised towards a strange nothingness. I know nothing of my name, of my body absolved of all being, of all obligation. I surrender myself, alone, to the warmth. I drowse. Infinite, I am this sand that erases me, that I want to be.
PITY – My heart is trembling asking for the words, the voracious words a man’s glance his disembodied gestures, the moon and splendor the boredoms. Enumerations. All because of the mystery crossing me. The interrogation.
SKY, YOUR BIG ARCH – If it doesn’t come, if it doesn’t arrive let it be. That is there, always like a convocation. If it doesn’t come, wait. The moon’s song has its time.
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