I will return from within
as from a cold cave,
searching another way,
beyond illusions that fascinated me.

Never could I ever look back
over my shoulder.

I will find myself in the chosen word,
strong consonant,
if I build columns with my palms
which climb more than I can believe.

My arms will become one with the stone,
with its round heart
hard to find,
as a terminus.

And on the searching run, I will become a shell,
detached from the spiral,
feeling
as the water touches its edges.

And it comfortably lives inside,
where sand penetrates and
turns into pearl.