Against the Robots

Is it Sunday? It's Sunday!
Breathing in the dawning day as if speaking to no one in particular,
Savoring a hearty breakfast, it's a day of celebration, let's not forget it, or rather, let's remember it.
Getting ready for a big day, the big day!
Listening to a grumpy taxi driver complain about the state of the world,
Distracting oneself from this conversation, as from any discussion,
Climbing the steps, entering the building and letting oneself be absorbed by it.
Breathing, coming back to life like a plant that has lacked water and light for too long… Taking root.
Praying. Praying! Advising and being advised! Listening to oneself loving! Listening to oneself being loved!
Finding pleasure in oneself, in oneself absent from oneself,
Feeling back home, in lands forever unknown.
Feeling completely, entirely, intensely loved…
Wondering what deserves this… Hearing oneself gasp.
Hearing oneself signify the end of eternity. Deo Gratias!
To lament the end of this adventure that contains all adventures.
To rediscover the world after having forgotten it, stammering and chaotic.
To rediscover the crowds, the noises, the clutter of the world… all that is not Him.
To sanctify lunch as if He were going to sit there with us.
To savor a soft nap where dreams carry reason away to an unknown, paradisiacal land.
To wake up, foggy, in a disparate mood, to get up with difficulty.
To mend the threads of oneself, and of others. To always stitch one's life back together. Especially the one to come.
To kneel, crooked, trying to stand in prayer.
To dream of grasping the unimaginable, the meaning that gives meaning to the void.
To find a thousand pretexts to flee, to listen to them all one by one, paying them particular attention.
To believe that truth could be exercised differently.
Trying to recapture the essence of what filled the morning hours.
It's Sunday afternoon…
Is it still Sunday?
Where has the magic fled?
Bored by useless thoughts, hoping time will pass more quickly.
Hearing oneself called from afar: "Where are you?"
Fearing, shuddering, trembling, crying, flinching at the terrible echo…
Remembering… No longer fearing. Never to ever fear again.
Dreaming of it being Sunday morning…
hallucinating going to the rendezvous and whispering to Him: "I am here!"
Dreaming of it being Sunday morning… To reconnect with wonder.