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but it is the center hole
that makes the wagon move.
We shape clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that holds whatever we want.
We hammer wood for a house,
but it is the inner space
that makes it livable.
We work with being,
but non-being is what we use.
HEX: #B92669
RGB: 185 38 105
RGB: 185 38 105
HEX: #FF9CA5
RGB: 255 156 165
RGB: 255 156 165
HEX: #E17F10
RGB: 225 127 16
RGB: 225 127 16
HEX: #FCB521
RGB: 252 181 33
RGB: 252 181 33
HEX: #FFE452
RGB: 255 228 82
RGB: 255 228 82
the lost jewels of memory,
intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses,
the fragment of public or private happiness.
A few, the wolves, collected thighs,
other men loved the dawn scratching
mountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers.
For me happiness was to share singing,
praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes.
I ask forgiveness for my bad ways:
my life had no use on earth.
