Empty Room

A forced entry.
Splinters of worm-wood.
Inside that room, a thousand
threads unread, unwritten,

unbound.

With secrets to tell.

In the realm of images,
one is tempted to call the moon
a torn-off piece of earth.
A mirror. On the wall
of that room. Oval
like an egg.

Towards the end,
the sense of space fades.
It is a closed world. A fortress.
A child's drawing.
A circular horizon.
The dwelling place
of devils and the dead.

Primal forces
take the shape
of flesh and blood.
(sacrifice and lust)
Move towards
that broken door.

No two things
in this world
are more

incomprehensible

than a room
without a body.