White like the snow

Memory can not contain
                      the absolute
you can not contain all the sea
in the basin of your hands
only the beloved drops prevail
the whole fire does not survive
only the single spark remains.

Memory erases
what is not necessary
the naked memories are immersed
in the deepest nothing
they sink
in the night without return.
The massacre of the past reigns.

The forgetfulness
It's a landscape
               white
like the snow.