A (W)hole
(Text by Fernando Martins da Mota)
There are rumours about where my thoughts stray to
Murmurs and rumblings about the frame
That from stained light scarcely departs
When the rain’s incessant drops lull my mind
When last the petals strewn their colour lost
And darkened
When last the hands your face gently held
And the thumbs down the cheeks glid
When last tears the soil watered
Before the plants did wilt
When last wine was poured
And smiles warmth spread
When last the mirror gleamed
Before the mirror fissured spread
When last eyes saw the whole in the chest
And the body petrified lay
Before sight blurred and veiled
And memories into oblivion fade away