I'm an unwritten page.
I'm waiting, laying straight on the table
Waiting to be written on.
I'm waiting for letters to be sprinkled on me like poppy seeds.
The heartbeat no longer measures time.
Nature's "vacuum" has been replaced by a spirit hovering over the waters of the Idea.
I look like an unwritten page,
But invisible ideas have stamped the contours of the watermark.
You'll see the writing if you pick me up and hold me vertically.
You'll see the hidden codes of the spirit,
When you look into the light.
You'll see what the Author left behind,
If you have good eyesight.
Who is the Unknown One?
What is he telling us?
The Logos, the creative Word, the Word written in the Book of Divine Wisdom.
The Word manifests itself in the book of Nature.
I am a page that is part of the book.
I am a page in the book of Nature, penetrated by Letters of the Spirit from the book of Life,
that talk with others.