I am searching for joy,
as a pen to write
the brief message dictated
by a distant voice
at the other side of the line.
At the exact minute of its flight,
at the precise instant of its remembrance
and its unthinkable desire.
Letter by letter I draw an horizon
of words to bring it
to the space of a silent and lifeless page.
I can hear it rattling, throbbing
in dreams made by shapes and colors,
murmuring strands dived
under bottomless threads and wires.
I write the code.
I figure out the password.
The world is opened.
The laughs impressed on the walls
seem to bloom for a second,
raptured in joyness and feast.
I press every number.
I call at every door.
Nobody answers.
Everybody replies.
