Who have I let in
I met myself,
as it were,
in the darkness of the morning,
on the terrace by the garden,
by the sea,
by the clouds on the edges,
as i was walking up the stairs,
he passed by me like my shadow,
but mirrored in every way,
warm in substance,
he told me in a vague,
broken manner,
that he cared about my health,
for my health was his sickness,
and my breath suffocated him.
Who was I,
if he was dying as I lived,
and why did the air feel,
so warm,
so bright with the heat,
of the past,
leave me be,
i ask,
of my friend, my son, my father,
i do not stay there anymore,
I live here,
in a house I thought was old,
but I now find was built just yesterday.
I have lived here longer than that.