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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.