To everyone, to everyone

Not for everyone

Who would believe in such universality

Whenever a sourdough bread and probiotics don’t appeal to all

How could one made-for-all quilt cover all our heels and ankles snugly?

How one lamp could attract the flies and mosquitoes, but no warmth or a single fly of a butterfly type?

Nothing can contain all of the sun of the invincible springtime

Only

I am thinking

If that essence, flour and song on earth,

Not a crystal buried so deep

No one can figure out under which tree,

If the people, doorways and dark bread

Were to receive that essence, receive themselves

Believe that they can put a loving hand on their forehead

And then everything could go calm and quiet…

Yes,

I will tell everyone, all I don’t know a tiny bit,

Who will never hear my name,

Those who live along this or other river or lakes sparkling like glass,

To you, to whoever, without knowing it, has waited for me

In non-universal recognition, I place my hand on a mashoire

On all fronts that heat not, that go calm

At the crossroads, at the exits, on the colourful paths.

And to those who wake and dress in the dark

Closing the buttons, they would find without a look, a regard

The way the egret stands at the edge of the water, meeting something that has not yet surfaced,

Patient from the knowing that what is coming is already on its way —

To you, then. To the heel that no quilt reached.

To the ankle that does not mind

To the fly that flew toward it —

Because what else is there to fly toward

But to that that goes to no regard.

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If you would like to revisit some past work, they are accessible here: