Dekleva Milan:
Blind Spot Of Time
Sleep, my child.
Breathe innocence into the silence of the night.
Your face from inside shines.
Not in one, but in hundreds of layers,
in the mythical, simultaneous parallelism
of plans.
How many possibilities that aren’t mine!
What a will to reach over all
who had gone
and now - as guardians - keep vigil in death:
Of whom? Of what?
Blind spot of time,
all the love that was
reused
by the only woman and the only man
has poured into you.
Blind spot of time,
you are the only clearness
of space,
the only path wrung out of oblivion,
to be its only
little bride.
Blind little bride of time.