Unexamined days shards of absence are

and years like continents long ago visited,

hard to remember, of confused dreams

and firmly locked doors a wilderness,

waterless wells and flowerless gardens

trapping us in a dimension where so fast time flows

that our lives are already over before they begun.



Whenever to warn others about it I tried

to wake them up a little bit,

the usual excuses they always gave:

– “Too soon – or too late – is now to do it…”

-“ My past Karma will never allow me…”

– “A bit of relaxation I need first, more energy

I will have after to do it…”

– “Surely, you’re exaggerating things…”



Look at almost all those around you:

flowers or small gifts sometimes carrying,

with white teeth all in a row smiling,

neat clothes, combed hair and words

sometimes even of intentional lies devoid

but which never quite mean what they say:

can you see how just under their masks

a grinning skull malevolently lurks?


Everything is so vain then: whatever they do

rarely turns out as expected; to distinguish

between slave and master unable are they,

between poison and healing elixirs,

between truth and illusions,

between Judas’ kiss and the one of the soul.



Perhaps inevitably what happens then is that:


– Their hunting falcons can catch but small mice at best.

– Crowded, polluted beaches their holiday places are.

– Of demons their churches are full, the holy water cursed

and in the confessional a vampire awaits.

– Asleep most of the time their watchdogs are

letting thieves, junkies and noxious drunks in.


Although when very young sometimes

attempted to fly they may have,

how could their yet unformed wings ever lift

all the heaviness within them off the ground?


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