The Blessing
Sometimes I can be really insistent: standing on one leg, brining my hands in prayer, dressed only in the four sides of the world, I remained silent and a nutmeg was my only food. Centuries passed, the lake on which I stood went dry and filled up with water again, ants erected an anthill around me but I kept staying focused, thinking of him. That’s how I gained his blessing. One fine morning, tired, anthropomorphic, he finally showed up and asked me:
why did you call me poet
what is you desire
and I said I want nothing
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