the thread of time has broken. the abyss curved its thirst for light
and the whole future sinks into the darkness of the beginning
the distant and the closer are overlapping
bookmark between dry pages
the light imprints its shape
in a stranger signs
but
somewhere, someday,
the light will be able to be reborn
from his own ashes
and all unspoken will rise from the table of silence
spreading the newborn light