Why ?

Why? The one day silence falling asleep in the milky trail of an eclipsing sun. Why? The close-cropped grass extending until the last enlightened regions. Why? Flowers undulating under the light breeze of a half-light momentary. I think of you. Why? A given up, solitary, proud tree. Why? The heat of the day fleeing in a remainder of momentary softness. Why? Clearness being erased for a blackness without light. I think of you. Why? Unexpected, absurd question. Why? I had forgotten you and this evening in my memories you returned. Why? I let to you flee in the drag of a falling asleep sun. Why? This sudden dusty interrogation of the sleep of the years. Why? Not earlier, not later or even never. Why? I think of you. Why? I am overpowered, anxious, am paralyzed by it. Why? My abandonment is similar to this solitary tree. Why? To be afraid of the surrounding vacuum while making trust it. Why? Not to flee by tearing off the roots of this bitter ground. Why? I think of you. Why? Whereas I do not have anything any more to wait nor to hope. Why? With the violence of the culpability. Why? That have you I make. Why? I did not do it. Why? I have if little thought of you…