I. On the nature of the path
I, who walk in flesh,
But listen to the voices of Eternity, acknowledge:
My life is not a line, but a rite.
Each fall is an initiation.
Each scar is a parchment
On which the Universe leaves its signature.
I accept my body not as a prison,
But as an alembic,
Where the soul evaporates and is distilled.
II. On the world as symbols
The world is not an event, but a text.
I read it not with my eyes, but with my touch.
The words do not sound,
They pulse in my veins.
Water is the memory of the first Union.
Fire tears apart the hidden ink of truth.
III. On the search
I sought Eternity in the corporeal –
And precisely because of that, I recognized it in everything.
My sin is not a fall, but a discovery.
The path to the sky lies through the depth of the flesh.
My thirst is not a weakness, but a key
With which I open doors
That are locked even to the Gods.
IV. On merging
“I” and “You” are merely sounds that fade
When “We” appears.
I do not wish to be chosen –
I want to be consumed.
For only when devoured do I expand.
For only by surrendering do I become whole.
Holiness and animality are not opposites,
But two ends of a single kiss.