top of page

*   *   *

*   *   *

Morning metro


It is in the silence of the wagon that squeezes

The procession of bodies still asleep,

That in truth I hear the best

Vibrate the threads of our hearts that hope.

Three times


The brilliant wand had made the day burst into a thousand emerald glimmers so that the enchantment of the spheres managed to push its echo in the direction of the return to eternity.

On earth, the crystalline and green grass lay down to form the velvet that would welcome the serious steps of wet feet full of desire to join the rhythm of Unison.

The Master stood listening, he had given everyone the word that suited them and that they had to keep secret, now he had to regain his silence.



He had already walked a lot and the shadow he was chasing also seemed tired,


A moment earlier he had briefly turned his head and in a second a delicious shimmer of floral and golden sparkles had,

through his yet indifferent gaze,

makes it flow all around his superior heart

a thick, soft layer of sweet, invigorating sap.


He stopped, the shadow died.


So he lay down in the cool grass to better feel the eternity that was being born within him.

*   *   *

Isabelle Bongard

bottom of page