It seeps through the transparent plane,
without stirring the lacework of illusions.
Relentlessly it compels the frozen mass
to admit into itself a fervent weightlessness –
a radiant blade that cleaves the half-shadow.
It streams down to the very floor of the room,
where coldness had breathed blindly.
The cold melts beneath the breath of light,
which, in a scorched and tautened string,
catches silver dust from the darkness.
A solar flare recasts the dimension,
cleaving the lethargy of time in two.
Within the amber thickness of the air
it gently caresses the forgotten contours,
washing away the dense sediment of days.
And returns the pulse to the sleeping stillness
of a corner long abandoned by people.
A wordless touch, filled with warmth,
subjects to a new and secret power
the stilled, enchanted space.