Those dark noises
Darkness
Spread on the stone
Endless corridors
Always the same…
As if a dark child
Sleeping
And
Dreaming of the world
The faithless
Those
Who are the most in him
Don’t know the tapestry of words
Will not recognize him
Who
Avowed for them
Breathes for them
The witches work their witchcraft
Everything weaves in a pattern
Burrows
And is it mine
This room floating
Along the great water
And to whom do I belong
The one I follow
Or the one
Who howls behind me
And who is the child
That puts my dreams in order
From where does that black water spill
Something wrestles me down
And a herd of apparitions surges
As if someone breathing
Burrowing into my head
And whispering to someone else
”multiply
unify
in your greed
let the night grow
from your
dark hearts
let everything pass
in reverse order”
And what is it
That grows in me
And trembles with passion
Buds upon the thorns
Tries to rise
To tunnel a chasm
And hide the burden
What is it
That lies with me in the room
Once it’s a dark noise
And then an echo through the corridors
I know
I was many others
And I received death in the same way
As I do now
Summoned by cries
And faithlessly alone
In a tapestry of words
Shattered
I hesitate
St. John of Bigor, 31.07.1995, 4 a.m.