to submerge in the ocean without the bottom
and the surface
to sink in the sea without the beginning
and the end
where the shape and the sens
is only a fiction
to see blind colours
to hear the words in comparison to which
people's tongues are only a mumble
and the logic ends with other creations
of defective consciousness
you don't have to be a shade longing for light
you don't have to be an unmourned grave
a night's wilderness
a lonely river running a death's lane
a mournful song on lips of the mads
a scretched wound
hide for me the silver of the deepest mirrors
hide the jeveles which nobody found