To play the body as you play a perfect instrument,
Every organ produces a new melody, a new variation,
To wield perfect mastery over the rhythm of cells.
The cells trained to perfection
To sense the shining sting of the genius infiltrating your biological course,
To cut through the body like an icebreaker,
through the ocean
To master the complexity
To overcome the ethical abyss
To never get stuck in the shallow waters of pettiness
To not survive the wreck of unbearable exigency
Yet to not humble yourself, to not haul in sail and leave the stock rust in the shallow waters
To be your body
Stasis without metastasis
To not allow death catch up with you in malice
To be right and to look the worthy life into the eye
Like in the morning when you look at yourself in the mirror
To gaze not at death but at the serene life in dignity
To be exactly this death of yours and this life of yours
Measured as a perfect mechanism
Like the perfect mechanism of the unfathomable
The disorganised choreography of the starlings murmuration in the springtime
The splashes of the sea the waves of the storm
To collect every memory so as to see it in the eyes of worthy life
To shelter it in the wilderness
To not rescue it or give it promises
But to stop it, to humble it, to nourish it
The images are the fragments of the body
Of our body remain only fragments
The hedgehogs of the images
Yet hedgehogs that
collect the forest mushrooms with dignity
at dawn
at dusk
*
No scale playing no register studying
But the music itself, outright, all at once
The music itself.