Consider, no matter what, even something agreeable <br />falls so low: in the pureness <br />of metaphysics, in the sublime <br />brightness of nothingness. <br />In the cubic emptiness, in the number <br />of fire. It’s the bonfire <br />which causes inanity to burn. In the centre <br />no wind whatsoever blows. It is the fire <br />pure, pure nothingness. No being inhabited by faith, <br />there is no extension. The reduction of the world <br />to a point, to a number which suffers. <br />Because it is hideous, a symbolical endurance, <br />without the uncertain material which enlivens it. <br />Is it the unwaveringness of suffering <br />in itself… Like the night <br />that never <br />would dawn. <br /> <br />© T. Wignesan – Paris,2013<br /><br />T (no first name) Wignesan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sensation-of-nothingness-translation-of-carlos-bousono-s-poem-sensacion-de-la-nada/
