Poetry

    And it  t age ... Poetry arrived

    in searc kno know where

    it came from, from er or a river.

    I dont know how or when,

    no t voices, t

    words, nor silence,

    but from a street I was summoned,

    from t,

    abruptly from thers,

    among violent fires

    or returning alone,

    t a face

    and it touched me.

    I did not knoo say, my mouth

    had no way

    h names,

    my eyes were blind,

    and sometarted in my soul,

    fever or forgotten wings,

    and I made my own way,

    deciphering

    t fire,

    and I e t faint line,

    faint,  substance, pure

    nonsense,

    pure wisdom

    of someone whing,

    and suddenly I saw

    the heavens

    unfastened

    and open,

    planets,

    palpitating plantations,

    sed,

    riddled

    h arrows, fire and flowers,

    t, the universe.

    And I, infinitesimal being,

    drunk  starry

    void,

    likeness, image of

    mystery,

    felt myself a pure part

    of the abyss,

    I wars,

    my  broke loose on the wind.