Being here, at the meeting point between contraries, in the middle of silence which makes reason stop talking, rekindling a brutal intensity where all that is body transverses
And twist the modern hand which brandishes like a trophy marbles and plastics and steels and woods - their atomes - as if devoid of soul and heart and tears, in front of the crazzed and gluttonous eye that the mysteries of this world no more overwhelm
And give their sacred blood back to the swept away ancestors
give its mystic fluid back to the Earth
and stumble, at the very pit of their artery, as within sanctuaries where the ever reborn breath of stones manifests itself, pouring our earthy fleshes for a forgotten transe