Unburdened from fulfillment, the child stands
Under the red brick tower of the church
Watching the sun as it shifts on the slippery dome
Of the heavenly aquarium
An elongating shadow forms
Martyrdom on its tip
"The whole plaza" thinks the child
"Is like a huge sundial, a stellar clock"
The clockwork shadow ticks of expiration
A full circle almost complete
Devoid of climaxes or rushes or ends.
Steps echo their descend further inside
Where the cogs and springs are only spirit
And the consumption of flesh is an unnecessary ritual.
No dreams attached
But a wish of a world of desires
Where the shadows are not mute
Yet the bells never toll.
No dreams attached
But a yearning for the normal
The healthy and mundane
And the peace therein.
The child colours its skin the colour of truth
And watches the night take its place
Equally treating everything high and low
Swallowing dreams and shadows
And burying crosses and smiles
Where everything
Unconditionally belongs.
