And it    t age ... Poetry arrived

        in searo know where

        it came from, from er or a river.

        I dont know how or when,

        no t voices, t

        words, nor silence,

        but from a street I was summoned,

        from t,

        abruptly from thers,

        among violent fires

        or returning alone,

        t a face

        and it touched me.

        I did not knoo say, my mouth

        had no way

        h names,

        my eyes were blind,

        and sometarted in my soul,

        fever or fotten wings,

        and I made my own way,

        deciphering

        t fire,

        and I e t faint line,

        faint,    substance, pure

        nonsense,

        pure wisdom

        of someone whing,

        and suddenly I saw

        the heavens

        unfastened

        and open,

        plas,

        palpitating plantations,

        sed,

        riddled

        h arrows, fire and flowers,

        t, the universe.

        And I, infinitesimal being,

        drunk    starry

        void,

        likeness, image of

        mystery,

        felt myself a pure part

        of the abyss,

        I wars,

        my    broke loose on the wind.
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