Fiat Lux

on the corridor without light

every proprietor has his door

behind which he repairs

floors walls windows

he sharpens blunt knives

chops food for dogs

parsley leaves for soup

 

have you seen somehow nobody

I’m asking the closed doors

with the back still straight

in this wonderland nobody is crying

the others are blind for autumn colors

they place eyelid over eyelid

lightly like leaf upon leaf

heaps of eyes without eyeballs

without opening

 

I can still see to knock on doors

stretching forth the charity box

in the dark

hopes are thin fingers

touching lightly the globe

a toy that doesn’t turn

and yet it staggers

 

the sun shows up beyond the clouds

every time silence is here