Leave me an underground, a labyrinth
to resort to later when, without eyes,
without touch, in the emptiness,
I might want to come back to life
or to mute rock or the hand of the shadow.
I know how – not you, anyone, or anything else –
to put myself in this place, on this path
but what will I do with these pitiful desires
since they didn’t work out on the outside
of the usual life,
and what if I don’t seek, personally, to live on
but to die on, to be part
of a metallic and dormant state,
of passionate beginnings.
