“Don’t criticize my manifesto.”
— W.A.
Yes, dear, blessing is this—you stayed just you, always.
Else, how’d I behold, in that, purest of graces.
In so frivolous, so cruel a world,
that in my life you walked for a portion,
however brief, ephemeral the while,
yet in my mind eternal you persist:
‘yond which I never dreamt that fate would grant.
You might never know this,
but you’ve been for the longest time,
my guiding star
above the dark and misty roaring seas,
my speck of light
throughout endless subterranean depths,
seemingly mere illusion
yet ne’er once out of sight.
Knowing always that you’re somewhere
on this planet—which we call home—
‘mong vast continents and e’er-changing oceans:
alone this holds me fast
through fierce quakes of my soul.
For in that lies a tiny glimpse of hope
one day that I might see you ‘gain,
perhaps upon our dearest lands,
might get to gaze at you
for just another few seconds,
another few minutes, another few hours,
another few daybreaks, another few seasons,
—maybe with best of luck—
another few lifetimes.
With that I shall carry myself
through worlds of hardship and of suffering,
shall wrest lofty meanings, sacred ideals
out of sheer ugliness
and utter mediocrity.
Yes,
just so I am worthy of you.
bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève, 19.06.2025