Events and encounters are not ballast or alleys whose exit is unknown,
but rather mirrors: small, large, convex, concave, wavy, deforming, splintering,
obscured ans capable in any case, with their reflection,
of letting us know an as yet unknown part of ourselves.
Sometimes I wonder what is at the end of this maze of mirrors.
What will become of me.. Of my self-awareness.
I have a very private private life, hidden,
like a private life in every shadow of part of a fragment of my private life.
A real mess, a labyrinth with several floors, perhaps dimensions.
Under a secret, other secrets, under these other little things hidden.
So deeper and deeper... where there is the truth,
the absolute one, the one even purer than me.
The one I don't even know I know.
There, I live.
I feed on emotions, which, filtered by my tangled life,
seem increasingly dim and light and are no longer enough for me...
they are never enough for me.
I created mazes for us
inadvertently
I left traps
scattered around the garden.
I have carved statues
around our bodies
and perhaps I will have a Virgil
and who knows if it will help anything
maybe I'll have a Montegue
that cradles me in the evening
and the next day it flies away.
Where am I going?
I only see "blind spots"
and false leads to follow.
Rough paths
messed up by mistake.
Labyrinths where I get lost,
no way out.
I feel like I'm going in circles. Is it the circle of karma or an unexplored time circle?
I stay here
surrounded by doubts
that plow my way.
Uncertainty upon uncertainty
I get further and further away
by myself.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 