THE PRIMAL SOUND

The Echo of Easter 2026

For Bella

I.

The morning is bright

because man has pawned

the darkness inside him

for a single birdsong

and that birdsong—

they let it vanish

like letting a man

walk into his own

last words

II.

The world lies like a child just put down by its mother—

Bella, the mother never put down

her arm hangs there

becoming the first

thing abandoned

because the world

lies in the evil one's hands

The child did not move

because the world

was glass

was that shattered

abyss

we all

later learned

to call

the ground

III. Man passes through man himself

The mist is no obstacle

dear Bella

it is man's own

breath

condensed

years ago

man passes through it

like a false prophet

through his own

funeral photograph

Some things untie

yet remain—

you spoke of the umbilical cord

of that

which everyone believes

already cut

yet still

in the deep night

suddenly tightens

that

inborn

debt

IV. The stone watches you

The gravestone remains. Covering the entrance

only not so heavy—

dear Bella

the stone grows light

not because of night

but because

it has learned

your weight

It now

waits

like you

and that entrance

was never covered

it is man's eye

on some morning

of childhood

seeing light

for the first time

then deciding

temporarily

to chase the world

to belong to the world

V. Light is the wound

The light has not come out, it is inside—

dear Bella, this is man's

core wound

man because of his own private heart

that damned monarch

shuts light in

making it become

a never-born

yet forever

in-delivery

internal

universe

VI. The earth splits

Easter

is not the earth splitting

is man's private words

that should split

dear Bella

someone has

found inside

the human body

a grave

never buried

and therefore

unable to resurrect

The night has not retreated

only loosened—

dear Bella

night is the earth's

mother tongue

all

poems about light

are

translated

from darkness

VII. Ash is man's temperature

Ash is warm

like fire still—

no, Bella

ash is warm

because you

once burned

and now

you have learned

to measure

love's

precise temperature

with embers

Men glanced at each other

then looked away—

this is not shyness

this is the etiquette

of survivors

We touched light

yet refused to speak

because to speak

is to

admit

we once

in darkness

claimed

each other

VIII. Love sinks

Love is there

without name—

Bella, you dare not

give it name

because there is bodily love

there is God's love

Naming is the beginning

of possession

and you know well

all

possessed light

will

extinguish

because man is but the remainder of spirit

merely breath in the nostrils

Only slowly changing

slowly sinking—

this is your

geology:

love is not

burning

is deposition

is transforming

the unbearable

brightness

into

bearable

depth

IX. Snow is your forgetting

Snow has not stopped

only too light—

dear Bella

this is man's

forgetting mechanism

you give all

too heavy

to the extreme distance

letting them

fall slowly

becoming

that kind of

distance

man can call

landscape

The road is ahead

also underfoot—

no, Bella

the road is that

blood vessel

you preserve for yourself

under snow

not yet

frozen stiff

need not see clearly

to walk—

this is man's

faith

in its most desperate

form:

not believing

there is light ahead

but believing

walking itself

can generate

enough heat

to keep them

from dying

of their own

clarity

X. Death is man's horizon

Death like distant mountains

still there

yet already receded—

Bella, the distant mountains

never receded

it is man

who learned

not to call them

the end

no longer closed—

this is man's

achievement:

man redefines death

as a kind of

open

continuity

Breath is light

almost inaudible—

Bella, this is your

final strategy:

making yourself

light enough

to be

unfindable

by death

XI. All things absent in each other

All things exist for each other

quietly approaching

yet each leaving blank space—

you spoke of

the essence

of relation:

we approach

in order to

confirm

distance

this is your

social poetics:

every

"each other"

is

two

lonelinesses

that can never

truly

meet

exchanging

their

contours

XII. The primal sound is man's silence

The primal sound

has not vanished—

Bella, this is man's

ultimate lie

the sound never

existed

what existed was

man's desire for sound

so intense

that you invented

silence

to bear it

It is too far

also too near—

this is your

spatial paradox:

you can only

desire

those things

simultaneously

inside you

and

at infinite distance

like faint yet bright

under snow—

no, Bella

under snow

there is no light

what is there is

you

continuously

digging downward

that

stubbornness

that

ancient human

error

of mistaking

darkness

for light

Always there—

yes, Bella

what is always there

is not

the sound

is your

listening

is that ear

forever

open

under snow

yet

forever

empty

Coda: For Dear Bella

This poem

is not gift

is testimony

I testify:

the world wrote

a poem about

light

while the world itself

is

darkness

this is not

criticism

this is

recognition

Nobel-level is

not

the victory

of light

is

their daring

in the

brightest

morning

to admit:

I

am

the internal

universe

that light

cannot

illuminate