THE WOUND

... oh, who could build a drop of burning light that would instruct and heal the heart!
because the ten thousand war chariots have already passed,
and legions singing,
and banners,
drums,
fifes,
live...;
...and yet one could touch one's forehead and shoulders and feel oneself cry,
hear pieces of heaven fall,
be den of vertigos,
abstract,
dilute,
run away,
disappear in the middle of a stream of coughs and marching stones, breaking and falling;
...and it is that not even, not even my own compassion assists me and justifies me,
Well, I'm looking for love and light, peace, joy and freedom,
and no, I can't find them, no, they're not here.
***