Uncounted

One, two, three, four, ... but centuries since the room of my mind was shelved in such neat order have gone by. Now, it seems, it was never this way. Now, it seems, from that very first moment from that dim, unseen first moment when I in the mirror on the dresser was shown to myself, the shelf and the number were outside me, behind me, on a wall that had nothing to do with me except to show me your face as with peals of laughter and funny faces you come out, from behind all the black and white and yellow and red covers; you come out, you run after me, and make me run after you, on the highest part of the shelf without one and two... Was one lifetime, two lifetimes, hundreds of lifetimes to pass before I saw you again? or not? Now, it seems, for thousands of years this question has not arisen. – The numbers were erased – nothing arises in my mind any more, except this: that we run after each other full of clamor through all of life; from now on outside the covers, uncounted, from now on from now on outside the shelves...