Justice
is the human ability...

Forests in suits,
trees dressed in metal...

Why is it
that never and always...

(a hymn from the Book of the Crossroads)
Here I go...

When all the bubbles burst,
in far-off islands...

The memory of your laughter
devours the miles...

Oh,
my chest...

My brothers,
my sisters...

The beast did not see the lamb.
It saw only meat...

Your lips—
my shelter...

I have been kept a prisoner,
a prisoner of being alive...

Oh yes—
it’s always a good pitch that does it...