Poezie
Becoming
1 min lectură·
Mediu
I will return from within
as from a cold cave,
searching another way,
beyond illusions that fascinated me.
Never could I ever look back
over my shoulder.
I will find myself in the chosen word,
strong consonant,
if I build columns with my palms
which climb more than I can believe.
My arms will become one with the stone,
with its round heart
hard to find,
as a terminus.
And on the searching run, I will become a shell,
detached from the spiral,
feeling
as the water touches its edges.
And it comfortably lives inside,
where sand penetrates and
turns into pearl.
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