The morning of the evening
And the evening of the morning of the evening
Are only distinct after dawn
When the warm monosyllabic beauty
Of the clean horizon takes the shade
Of the one of the two that made me survive
And will make me pay within the hour
To the night, the suspense of the knots
The false dream of a white meal
To the night, the immaculateness of the wounds
That heal less
And picture their ends oozing
Time flying
Says you need
Almost nothing
For him to make
A real challenge
Instead of his
But the way this almost nothing
Spreads almost everywhere
And above everything what it spoils
Make me regret that I am soft
Subtlety and resonance
A sacrifice in the form of a dance
Almost strong
And almost nothing
