Tomorrow morning

This night, a frozen shroud extended on the ground. It will not stop me. Beyond mud and frozen flacs, beyond my tiredness, I will walk to you. I owe it to you. For these days when we ran on the sand burning of the summer. For your absence. For your lack of you. For these bonds which are the roots of my reason. You live my thought. I take place only this to lodge you. Our practices are nothing any more but memories. A diaphanous veil recover them. It is unbearable for me. I cannot draw aside it. Each day, it thickens more and more. I hate it. The way our lives separated forever. To Come to find you. To divide. Tomorrow morning, in the cold and the whiteness of a cold paddle. Tomorrow morning, beyond the fog and from the contracted trees, I will go to you. I know that you expect me. My step is now slower. Do not judge me, I love you as much. You left, it is so a long time. Many snows of the winter covered the tomb with our passion. There remains to me only this stone where your name is engraved. It is there that I believe that you are. I make seeming. I lie myself. There remains to me only that to exist in the memory of you. Then, this frozen shroud which extended on the ground this night will not stop me. I will walk beyond mud and of the cold flacs. I will cross this fog of the winter which will be never enough thick to find you and to love you.