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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: #033417
RGB: 3 52 23
RGB: 3 52 23
HEX: #135728
RGB: 19 87 40
RGB: 19 87 40
HEX: #FCFC08
RGB: 252 252 8
RGB: 252 252 8
HEX: #416CB1
RGB: 65 108 177
RGB: 65 108 177
HEX: #FCD111
RGB: 252 209 17
RGB: 252 209 17
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.
