In a Quarry
Every day I dream the same dreams,
passing through a quarry at midnight.
Stones burst open, cut, grinded,
carried away along a thin cable in the midair.
Anguish comes from the interior
of the stones, the indivisible core of darkness.
Things shared vanish
when shared, but not pain.
It comes freely like the free fall
of a solid stone, its pain so pure.