I had to return north
from Sicily
because of a series of nightmares
during which something started to grow in my throat.

On the airest night
I went down towards the 9th circle of Hell
down down
the marble steps of the Palazzo
all night I travelled

the round face of Xeminaou
was there
a guiding light

The infinity night I was in Warsaw
without passage of words, water, even spit
was I clogged

until the life night in Denmark
The pain was a much creamy cream cake I ate with fluttery frantic arms
I spat all over the bed
my language was that of spit

On the magnet night
the pain returned
but this time with structure.

The pain was presented as boxes of partisseries
emerald green, bright yellow, ocean blue boxes
glazed with sugar like glass.

.

Their faces were concentrated and covered in white
They cut my mouth open raw
with needles and scissors

I watched it with open eyes
as the shores and houses of sand disappeared
air by air

as the north grew darker

and by chance I read this by a flickering light:

"If you sleep this sleep and dream this dream in this time of the world, you will know that the sun will also rise at this time.
For the moment we are still in the dark, but the day is upon us.
He who comprehends the darkness in himself, to him the light is near.
He who climbs down into his darkness reaches the staircase of the working light, fire-maned Helios. 

I do not know what I speak, I speak in a dream. Support me for I stagger, drunk with fire.
I drank fire in this night, since I climbed down through the centuries and plunged into the sun far at the bottom.
And I rose up drunk from the sun, with a burning countenance and my head is ablaze. 
Give me your hand, a human hand, so that you / can hold me to the earth with it,
for whirling veins of fire swoop me up, and exultant longing tears me toward the zenith."

- The Red Book, Carl Jung