(I would like to describe...)

Today I came here, to this white box with these photos ready to post under these black letters, for relief.
Now, instead, I look at my own photos and wish to purge them of their metaphors.

Last night, in my dream, I rode the highest rollercoaster down a smooth hill that overlooked a sunlit lake.
I climbed up to the top of the hill to ride again. They strapped me in my seat, and I knew that this ride was no longer safe.

I woke up to the terrible sound of the phone ringing. But the phone was not ringing.
I could see my chest pound even in the dark.

* * * 

I would like to describe a light
which is being born in me
but I know it does not resemble
any star
for it is not so bright
not so pure
and is uncertain

- from this Zbigniew Herbert poem