I dreamed of a wall, by the well,
Constructed of discarded chessmen
And damaged harps, the
Strings of which were plucked, at times,
By atoms moved by winds birthed
History’s high Oriental snow fields.
My crazy world is broken again.
The sharp jagged edges of debris
Cut my feet, scar my very soul.
I am stung out of lethargy,
Brought to words and thoughts
I believed were lost to me:
We must all live in the moment –
That much is obvious –
But this act, this logic
Is fair in no language
Used by the civilised.