To be one again,

in the full sense of mathematics,
to return alone to the honey, to the blue almond
of the day. To weigh with the mouth the
agony of the stones.
To glue again with the Droplet the moon that
we had split in half,
the glass, the mirror, the shadow, the
vertiginous rabbit of the days,
everything becomes one again,
all the stars, all the questions,
all the answers become one again. The gaze becomes
a trench again, any leaf,
a statue, can be reason enough
to tarnish the tooth that digs,
delayed, the bread of joy.