A note has been lost.
We do not know the compass nor the scale...

For a moment the eyes of the living met the eyes...
And they did not strike like fists nor dent the...

A glass of water assembles another afternoon...
a separate conglomeration of time...

The creatures of afternoon light the bonfires of...
The creatures of afternoon know that they should...

The emptiness of the day condenses into a point...
The fullness of the day condenses into a minute...

The eye draws on the white ceiling a little black...
The ceiling takes up the eye's illusion and turns...

It own thirst sustains it.
The things all arounf it sustain it...

An immeasurable sacrifice,
an abundant grace...

My mind is entangled,
by sweetness of your heart...

A touch so warm
a kiss so soft...

If only we knew the point,
where something is going to break...

It's madness,
to hate all roses because you got scratched by...