What is a poem? It is a blurry mirror, containing a universe. The mask of the evening vanishes in the blue of your eyes. Are you the foam of a unborn river, or a flock of invisible birds? A sea of open palms, or the silence of a setting star? No matter, knowing is less important than feeling. Do you hear that? High waves vaulting over each other to eavesdrop on us. What do I want? To swallow the world. When the pain finally forgives you, who will you become? We are only what we love. We are void, we are light. [