I kiss
My lips will touch the ice,
sticky, sweet, and hot.
The glow will embrace the darkness,
the glow — infinite, yet whole.
I dream of that ice, hard and sharp,
with edges smooth and gentle,
praying to soften the darkness,
to embrace it with the whole infinity.
When I am afraid, I dream of fear
in your eyes and mine,
a chilly pain in a heart of stone
to pierce me with a gentle gaze.
I will kiss the ice, the stone, the fear.
I will water the root with warm tears.
The deep abyss will feel the glow,
the touch of life — of water and salt.
I am pain and sorrow myself!
The fear of dreams with fervent ice.
I search for the glow in the darkness, alone
to embrace me with the infinite whole.
And that’s why,
I kiss the stone and thick ice,
I embrace pain, despair, and the gloom.
I kiss the wall, the wire, the silence.
I stroke the root, deep and numb.
Kissing the whole, embracing the abyss, the darkness, the roots… Watering the plants with light, with the dawn, with despair and sorrow… It’s perhaps the only way to grow, inside-outly, in complete harmony with the soil, with the water and with the ever-shinning skies. Only by gently kissing that glow, our holy spirit flies and knows.