With the listening of the fears of the night.

Going on sand, the slow step. The face whipped by the wind. With the listening of silences of the night. Carried by the howling breath. Remembering. Of these words known as and repeated like oaths. The light of a headlight which shone. In a darkened sky. Pale copy of the colors of the life. Advancing while hesitating. Inhabited by the fear of fled memories. The knocking heart. With this obsession to be only invaded by an engrossing vacuum. The deserted moor, sand as far as the eye can see, sea advancing mechanically. In the distance, the throbbing sound of bells beating with the doors of a terrifying hell. Fear freezing blood, to the infiltrating heart. In a paralysing cold. At the borders of loneliness, knocking on the door of the melancholy. To Be only, to have wished it, finding in the abandonment the force to reappear with the gleam of a candle. Burning. At the top of a headlight, in the padded cocoon of the clouds of night. Progressing with difficulty. Against the whirling wind. To the right headlight like an I. Stiff body. Whipped by the corrosive breath. To approach some humbly. By pushing the door of darkness to know what there is inside. To assemble the steps to one, moistness breathing. Of a tower on it even whirling. Moonbeams marking out a climbing never not finishing.The heart in madness. To resist not to burst, fight to cherish the life. With the gleam of a candle. On it even waltzing in slow and spellbinding movements. Sadly. With the listening of the fears of the night.