A flower among the flowers of eternity

When twelve months have passed,
you are on the threshold of a year that is not,
for the year in you has passed,
but before you only your filled sheet
of a black hole without a paper.

But if you are no more
the light of light is in you,
like a ball of light,
which oscillated like a hole in ether,
through the eye of a needle for thousandths of seconds of passing
and counted down the minutes in your hours
which in your world were days.

If you left your days behind,
subtracted the minutes and seconds of the drawing of time,
and discarded the blank sheet —
the original sin of the temptation of your existence —
the ball of light will blossom
and you be a flower among the flowers of eternity.