For Pythia

In suddenness, I will 
write a poem for you. 

You had stopped at the 
outset, like a black moon 
opening up perfervidly. 

Remote from the oneness 
of life, a flame leapt up 
to ignite the process of birth― 
without perceiving. 

Come let's meet at the 
navel of the destiny. 
I had the penchant of 
burning myself. 

You, who would never be 
visible, I will dust all the mirrors 
to find out. 

Waiting for the festival to begin.