I walk in the dark.
But, at least, I walk.
And, if I am not mistaken,
I go somewhere.
Not that I know where.
I just know I’m going there.

As if I could know
before arriving
exactly where it is
or rather
where it has reached.

Sometimes,
most of the time,
I only know after,
when I'm already somewhere else altogether.

It’s because of the distance,
it helps looking at things
with scrutiny,
to place them
in their right perspective,
at their right place.

When everything is in place,
one can see where the thing is,
its relations with the other things.
Except, of course,
when it’s in the dark.