to submerge in the ocean without the bottom and the surface to sink in the sea without the beginning and the end where the shape and the sens is only a fiction to see blind colours to hear the words in comparison to which people's tongues are only a mumble and the logic ends with other creations of defective consciousness
you don't have to be a shade longing for light you don't have to be an unmourned grave a night's wilderness a lonely river running a death's lane a mournful song on lips of the mads a scretched wound
hide for me the silver of the deepest mirrors hide the jeveles which nobody found