I kneel on the ground with my hands buried in the earth.
To get acquainted with emptiness? No,
to welcome the night, to reach the human axis,
and then lift my soiled hands
to the sky for no one to see. This takes a second,
and I’m soon trapped between the noise and the echo,
in the expanse of a terrifying cry.
I walk alone, I move through the night
with a purse and a phone in search of fragments
and end up lounging at coffee shops.
But not tonight, tonight I reach the broken core
and unearth fragments of a simple element,
a worldly form, which makes up the finite promise of our existence.
My fingers blend with the wet and fine solitude,
to uncover a rift, not properly sealed.
My transient hands traverse the fertile medium
to finally know,to discover a fruitless seed. My phone rings.