the black and the white

if only you had been right...
we might enter: an unpeopled region
of ever new-fallen snow, a palace blazing
with perpetual silence as with torches.

Much to be said, much to be withstood. A few words allocated, parceled out, like worn-out rags. I guess that will do. The sound of bells that announce an arrival or a departure.Shadows hiding in the grass, carrion crows crying coldly in the wild empty sky. To find the end before the end of day. Light slipping off the rooftops, weakly glancing off the high windows, revealing nothing of what goes on inside. But it's obvious, black and white.

Between the stones and the void, barely present...and all the time the distant clouds, so serene and untroubled, gather darkness to themselves.

So little to say, now. Or can't remember.
The exact words
Are fed into my blank hunger for you
like the black entering the white