And what is this creeping shadow? But look up at the sky:
There, through the turquoise sky, a fish is flying and striped tail aglow.
It flies, but why does it fly so high? It speaks of love in flight.
And why are you silent? You too are silent about love, I know.
And what is that glinting in the grass, what is that shard of glass?
it hides away, it remembers each flaw, fracture, scar and seam.
It glitters of love through tears: her heavy footsteps pass
along the fault line—it cracks… yet still it shines and gleams.
And what is aflame over there? A ladybug burns bright:
its darkened spots are embers spent, the rest is fire’s glow.
It burns of love, burns out, and will not return to light:
only dry dead chitin remains, and a spider’s looped thread below.
The world is all speaking of love, but does it make things easier?
The shard will wound, the wings will sear, the shadow blinds the sight.
We’re as convicts, barge-haulers bound by a spider’s flimsy tether,
I’m silent: nothing will ever change, if I dare speak it outright.
2025.09.03