Mirror palaces

Each time I break I blow

a hardened layer

on the odyssey to myself

a cloud of dust of smoke

surrounds me

drowns me

disorients me


Each time I reach a hard rock

I must wait for this cloud

to settle down

before pursuing my work

and blowing the next rock away


It’s a tiring path

of cyclic repetitions

the despair before unbreakable rocks

the elation once a rock has been removed

the anger after losing my way for several days

and there are no shortcuts

no way to speed up the process

no way to fly or at least run

it’s a slow path that must be walked on

one little step after another

each rock I remove

I hew in squared stones

to complete the top of the towers

of the cathedral of my soul

this cathedral I’ve been building for thousands of years

and that is almost completed

I’d already like to hold receptions there

but its open roof still lets the water in

in this rainy country where I’m journeying