Jan Hauck (June 1,1978)

It may only provoke a clinical, hygienic clapping,
A reality so personal, I cannot explain it,
Reality that awakens, that smiles
Like the flag of a victory over nature,
Designated to be a banner for silence,
In a war of misunderstanding and exposure,
The bullets of pitiful frowns can kill.

No theory like butterfly wings and hurricanes,
Natural like death in diamond mines,
I succumb to those ripples that wake me up,
Sanctity and protection, I know, I just know,
Eight or ten minutes and you know too,
Locked inside a silent tear,
Like an ancient butterfly in amber.