Each ribbon of fire

that, in quest of Love,

I fling and vibrates in pitiful roses,

births me to the burial of a day before.

I do not know if the drumroll in which I seek it

will be the gasping of a rock

or the perennial birth of heart.

Extended toward the depth of beings

is an ultranervous axis, a deep plumb line.

Thread of destiny!

Love will divert such a law of life

toward the voice of Man;

and will give us a supreme liberty

in blue, virtuous transubstantiation,

against what is blind and what is fatal.

Let there palpitate in each cipher,

imprisoned in the frail dawns,

an even better Jesus from another great Yolk!

And afterward … The other line …

A Baptist who keeps watch, keeps watch, keeps watch …

And, riding on an intangible curve,

one foot bathed in purple.