He Who Has Nothing—it Has Been Said

With Which Stars Do They Go On Speaking,the Rivers That Never Reach The Sea?

And I, Infinitesima­l Being, Drunk With The Great Starry Void, Likeness, Image Of Mystery, I Felt Myself A Pure Part Of The Abyss, I Wheeled With The Stars, My Heart Broke Loose On The Wind.

Day-colored Wine, Night-colored Wine, Wine With Purple Feet Or Wine With Topaz Blood, Wine, Starry Child Of Earth.

Death Is The Stone Into Which Our Oblivion Hardens.

Will Our Life Not Be A Tunnel Between Two Vague Clarities? Or Will It Not Be A Clarity Between Two Dark Triangles?