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END OF THE READING

I’m dazzled by the spotlights
when I gaze into the darkness where you are sitting.
The spotlights are the illusion
of shadow where you all listen to the clarity
of my blindness: we all carry
within us a dark auditorium
listening in silence to some story
of hopeless seduction.
Loving means being remote.
Love means being a stranger, but you
are the hospitality of this silence
that has listened to me knowing that inside you
I have ceased to exist, that I shall have been
no more than the much-loved shadow of someone else.

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