Inside, the stir extends to any dimension
With a point of honor on the depths
The aim is clear but not the way
The purpose sometimes fades under the blowing shutters of substances

Ignoring who finds me when I seek myself, I lose the edges
The bulwarks of existing before me
I design it and it tightens me
I want to tighten it with no design

Always further towards the horizon of hidden meanings
Meanings abrupt to understandings
Ever more overturned by the pitching of causes
And the surprising silence of effects

Later but when?
I will not lose me more
I hibernate in the hole of my swerves

On guard in the unknown, I get ahead of the wait

July 2015