It is dark, only words are shining
Tristan Tzara

you, coming over the mountain in the night
just the light of your lantern

you
coming
a light different
from the gauze of the stars above

gliding zigzagging glued to the earth
winding down the path
hidden in forests
among cliffs
then out again

nearer

broken syllables
descending into the flesh

you coming across the never mown
pasture
in a dream

under a veil
woven here
in a loom
that no longer exists