A fragile afternoon
A vast sea
Empty trees
A butterfly and a grave
I am here
The villagers are here
Tales in strange languages are here
Broken tongues are here
I wish I knew that I lied down on a pillow of
I wish I knew that the cricket frightened the little
I wish I knew that the words are adrift
and the coffee is light
I wish I knew that the eyes are veiled
and the bell is cursed
The poor boats raised the faces of the refugees as
its sails
Only the fearful are capable of building
a house in the wind
But the wind deceived time
So to listen to the poem of the great void
So to sweep away the ignorance of the universe