Par |2019-02-19T18:09:59+00:00 17 juillet 2012|Catégories : Blog|



Until the very end of dying
      there will be one wind in your throat
      and one train, voices and a storm.
Once the land­scapes are gone and the end itself is over
      you will be an out­line on a dis­tant ice floe.
And once the last face has hap­pe­ned
      only the sky and your face will remain incom­plete.
Rock will come to its long ending, earth to its deep ending.
      And beyond the sky you will breathe.
Yet this image only will endure on the skin
      and then, behind ano­ther and behind one unk­nown :
a cathe­dral, its bot­tom made of fog and leaves.
Just an image, an expe­rience. Do not get confu­sed. Banish thought,
      for your sake, the cathedral's, the leaves'.
Thus the lone­li­ness will no lon­ger be per­so­nal.
      Light will breathe beyond the sky,
Before the soul there will be cer­tain signs :  
      bra­ce­lets, rings, pearls, mother-of-pearl but­tons –
spaces and objects of pro­gnos­ti­ca­tion.     
      And then from the Atlantic
the land of mir­rors emerges.
      And slow­ly you recall the town where your
eyes began, for the first time.