A Mist Made of Stars
I am moving swiftly, and stand still
engulfed in endlessness and confined
to the distance my outstretched arms can reach;
in darkness I blindly grope
for light, and for its fiber and glow,
its warmth upon my cheek,
to see tears sparkle like glass beads
on my hands and in dreams
to bathe in its blueness once again;
eternity, and the knot of dread
grips my stomach as vastness
envelopes my body and enters
the heart beneath my ribs; I
look and drift when light, in the
shape of a single
brushstroke and as dim as a
muscae volitantes appears and
grows and
becomes a cloud, a fine mist
made from light, from flames, and from stars;
now this glow is cool and fresh and
mysterious, like a spirit, and clearing
my vision, washing it from darkness; coldness
it is, and lifeless—solitary, and as merciful
as that cabin that shelters
the winter traveller; there are webs
of light moving past, clusters of light, almost organic
in shape and form, and dust
glows like clouds in a photograph
of undeveloped film; suddenly
this mist becomes discernible and
particles emerge from regularity; they are
specks of light with jagged edges—an
infinity-pointed star; they blur into eye water and
burn my vision when my eyelids close;
they form streaks,
and streaks form circles and spirals
and, like comets, their trail burns
out slowly behind them with decreasing intensity;
I look,
I close my eyes, and I cannot escape
their fire; I cannot turn away
from these visions and
these flashes no matter
how quickly I turn my head; my jaw clenches and
my tongue is bitter inside my mouth; I refuse to breathe
until this light fades away, until these flames
cease to lick at my cornea, when
suddenly blackness, inky and merciful
coats my eyes, and in oblivion
I find rest; this blackness is so perfectly black
that it is almost brown; solid, and so vast and empty
that when I reach out, there is nothing to touch;
I feel small—
small and warm again; my head does not hurt
nor does light burn me; I do not feel
my heart beneath my ribs nor does
blue coldness tell me I am dreaming and there is
no bitterness and
no sweetness either but there is only
everything and
nothing.
