emptiness part 3 & 4
(3. acceptance)
what are you selling, gringo?
bulls skinned alive while staring to the deep blue sky
screaming with tears in wine...
what are you selling, gringo
a blink of an eye?
you're praying to the dead and
your child is making his mantra out of the skin of a snake
but you're still believing in fortune
and you're rich, and you're wise,
what are you selling
me, my petito, my #life?
I dreamed of a darkness who flew through the sky
and killed all that's living and sucked in the light
I've dreamed of a dream so wild, so uncouth
that droll glimpse of void made me cry, and I've cried
like the virgin to Christ before becoming alive
like the end of the childhood, so neglected, benign
I've dried my cheek and then
I looked to the sky without cease
without ease
to the edge of the sense
becoming a man
since
I never dreamed, instead
I tried to comprehend
so
what are you selling,
my friend?
*
(4. longing for)
they were so aligned
in the shine of a dime so untouchable close
in the marrow of time
twisting in chambers and stairs so divine
that the building itself would have broke
without taking their breath in its cells
the shadows were driven away
the whispering sound of a feebly cry and
the sinking sun
the dream to an end
but they demand
(a bearing that craves)
nor the end, not even the freedom itself
but to relive their meaningful content
as if you understand their reasons, their fate
and forgive the shame, disbelieves and obeys
and the child stretched out his hand
and caught the reason itself glittering
in a puddle of rain
Richard Withey
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