CLAIRVOYANT RUINS

There is no darkness. It is all inhabited.
It is dense with what has been cast off and barely survived,
the events that also have half-lives.
And the buildings, the inventions, the plazas and kisses.
These are the bones of the known and the mysterious,
all of the blue things racked by the moon.
This is what glistens in the dark, the underbelly
where we have lit matches and blown out candles and intoned wishes.
It is in these clairvoyant ruins where we live between improvisations,
consecrating the moments with our prayers and lies.
Always we are abandoning the journey of recognizable destinations,
the harbour with the breakwater and buoys.
It is in the ruins of this darkness
that we absolve the ones who love us badly.
In the darkness where we know ourselves absolutely
and we are fueld by ancient griefs,
and luminous without stars…