Life turned pale,
a violet knowing nothing of a second bloom.
At times a thorn would emerge
pathetically to prick the sun.
Point zero has struck in the sky,
no gong could have announced it.
Like the dead awakening elsewhere,
the medallion welcomes us to its other side.
We will have the expanse of milleniums
to tally our first balance sheet.
All the radiance and evil
accumulated in a banal quarter of an hour.