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What would you do if when you woke up it was an insect on your wall?
Something subtle, wide angle,
that nothing counts and everything sees.
If when you woke up, it was still there...
What would you do if it could be
the dissection of a scalpel?
If you could touch
before prohibiting,
the labyrinths of the garden.
And if when you woke up, it was still there...
you would want to see what I saw.
I counted to three to escape,
I looked for the stele to an altar.
I saw the ying and yang arguing,
stabbing each other from behind.
And I heard them moan and I saw them cry
like untamed beasts.
And right there you slept,
you whispered to me that when I woke up, I should still be there...
to listen to everything,
without confessing the way
of being a witness in your feast.