there is [...] a last even of last times of saying if you do not love me I shall not be loved if I do not love you I shall not love - Samuel Beckett

If you do not love me I shall not be loved. If I do not love you I shall not love.

If you do not love me I shall not be loved.
If I do not love you I shall not love.

Dear incomprehension, it’s thanks to you I’ll be myself, in the end.

I find me, leave me, go towards me, come from me, nothing ever but me, a particle of me, retrieved, lost, gone astray, I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that I’m something quite different, a quite different thing, a wordless thing in an empty place, a hard shut dry cold black place, where nothing stirs, nothing speaks, and that I listen, and that I seek, like a caged beast born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born of caged beasts...

Spend the years of learning squandering
Courage for the years of wandering
Through a world politely turning
From the loutishness of learning.