However, this was wrong.
As if nothing ever happened
as if there wasn’t any abyss
as if I hadn’t shed a drop of blood.
My memory of forgetfulness
wiped out clean
all the stains
from all surfaces.
Then,
is the point of the pencil
so short
that it only touches
the face of the paper?
Or is it still my deep thought,
quite unexpectedly yet,
so deep
in the abyss,
that other abyss
of primordial things
and there it encounters the same
perennially fiery thoughts
the intense emotions
the darkest symbols
of an incomprehensible
mother tongue?
What can I believe?

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