A long time ago
I heard a drop of blood fall repeatedly, calmly,
a drop of transparent blood, but it was blood:
a drop or a thread
by which stone was sending its message to stone.
The piercing, the present repeated until eternity ( each time, each fraction of time )
in the same precise point of space
(that solidly dark point which is the stone, a likeness compressed from space),
a condensation of the clearest dream that the universe dreams.
