...and what would be left but the hallow wind, and my curt understanding, for how little it would serve me?
Yet there is no sound in the brush, the children sleep, the wolf amidst the dead stillness where trees no longer abide on the summits. The hills ripped naked by a UFO fire. The Sun gleaming somewhere else : the stars aligned, no allowance for hidden mischief.
Surely I must indeed advance?
Loitering. The mind dispels the awkward tendentious brain.
The Sun, the Star, the Thunderbolt. Is this how you see me? From within a secret Cloud? Yet, is it with this in mind, you filled my Soul with your loving eyes, together? In friendship for one of yours, here on Earth, where battered souls incline intrepid, where we won't stay? But like you with a deep breath, leaving me alone again in solitude?
A warrior unkind among the sheep?
Certainly the giants of yore have gone and disappeared. There enormous stride crushing the broken toppled branches that lay waste; those I myself have climbed on in those upper regions they abandoned.
A dreamer. A poet. A knight defeated.
The sword of my Self, a lit wicker in a tenebrous carnal abode.
Truly right from the start
I fought, in spite of me
Clamoured such as Sorcerer.
A son of Satan.
A misplaced man.
A magic crown from which to leap
Toward the very narrow door in Heaven
Watching me.
