Who shape life
Without interfering too much;
Those who just circulate
In the breath of speech
And lightly affix
A drawing to things.
But, because there are unequal spaces
Between who they are
And who they seem to me,
My pleasure inclines
Towards the most reconciled,
Upon awakening,
With their last weakness;
What least presides over life
And presides over ours
Letting it consume him
The incandescent core
Of a votive silence
From which a smoke of incense
frees us.
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