SOME LOST WORDS?

Meaninglessness…

A room, any one.

With colors, lights, smells,

That remain there,

Vacant,

Among blazes of romanticism.

A tyrannizing ceiling.

And nothing else,

Except unreliable visions

Bumping against walls.

And that might be it…

In spite of the silence.

Or maybe, quite simply, a closed circuit,

Rid of poetry

Leading nowhere,

In ancient circling motions.

Nothing really resting on our shoulders…

What an odd, passionate relief!