Here I lie in a pool of my own spiritual blood
murdered by the loving efforts of a god who has been created by a human mind
I float about in ghostly form haunting the world of my life
Afraid to move forward, unable to move back
I am searching for the god who exists in the emptyness
Can I find that which I seek or by seeking do I simply recreate my former life in a different form?
I seek that which eminates from the entirety of the universe and the entirety of me
both the me which is contained and the me that is free.

Tired of all who come with words, words but no language
I went to the snow-covered island.
The wild does not have words.
The unwritten pages spread themselves out in all directions!
I come across the marks of roe-deer's hooves in the snow.
Language, but no words.

Tomas Transtromer

Hello.