Snail

Blessed be this time and all times

when you picked up a stone on your path –

this black one, white-speckled-

 

and swallowed it so that it rests

like ice or a fist curled on your heart

that feels like a sullen sky

 

emptied of a cut-out patch

fallen into a darkened field

where you stood still like stone

 

as around you the world spins

in time to a music you have forgotten

or do not remember ever knowing –

 

these times, sad times, times

with spaces, alone and lonely times,

when you were as a snail

 

creeping across the open path,

trailing silver, bearing your beautiful burden

and blazing infinity on your back.

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