And not having earth to stand
I become a poem

You said you do not want to be a Number
You do not want to be just the spirit
But the "hidden harmony"
the nameless becoming of the world
that purifies with pain

And when you determined the commands of chaos
and defined the Justice
awake for thousands of years in the heart of darkness
για να ποιήσεις το Φως και την ‘Ωρα την Πρώτη
you said, you exist now

I exist
a drop of life from your blood - the one
you called blood of sacrifice
blood or spring water from the first intangible hour

Γι’ αυτό, άκουσέ με
I am the drop of water I the one who is initiated
to the raw memories of my path
watery passages inside me
From the sanskrit asFu of my soul
that carries the memory of chaos
to my pearly Angel with the unsoiled cloth
that turned memory into awakening   
and fought with The Dark One
fought in the asphodel dank and mouldy fields of Homer
To defeat him with his music
Music will abolish the untrodden, he said
To defeat him with the intangible light
Memory is awakening, he cried

"And I will shine on the dead!"

Hear me,
I am the drop of water - water or blood
that contains all the rivers and the tides of creation
memories from the genesis of the world
And even if I wander now
even if I wander now, like a field in despair
I wander
by your command
in the miasma you sent

I wander now with my hands tied behind my back
and my face scorched from your lightning
I wander now, I wander

I slept so deeply during my time on earth
that I forgot you
Your bright command was so heavy
that I forgot
But only a moment of purity is enough
to make all tears bloom
to vindicate time
to vindicate me

to find my old peaceful sky
Άκουσε  με,
Whatever you wanted to tell me
το ‘νιωσα με το άγριο πέρασμα σου

This hour that the tides change
and the whole world as a wild animal in a trap

This is the hour when The Dark One walks
in thousands of roads - spreading death
And the fear solid and inaccessible
inside the houses

My voice as a voice of multitude of waters from the years of Job
"I cry to you
and you don't respond
Hear me, I beg of you, he said
why do you sleep?"

A trivial speck of intellect
inside a bulk of silence
μ’ ένα κερί μόνο στο χέρι
lit
to shine on the endless night

Hear me,
on her shoulder mother lifted Hades
as if she called her son back from the dead
and became the seven string lyre of Orpheus
to determine the commands of chaos anew
to reach the intangible secret of darkness
that obscures your Light.

Listen, finally, hear me
I pray upon the wounds you have inflicted on me
And I know that they are
my way to You.