Following the black footprints the tracks of words that have passed that way before me I come again and again to your blank shore

not the end yet but there is nothing more to be seen there to be read to be followed to be understood and each time I turn back to go on in the same way that I draw the next breath

the wider you are the emptier and the more innocent of any signal the more precious the text feels to me as I make my way through it reminding myself listening for any sound from you