THE REGULAR DOCTOR WAS A SADUCEE
It is not possible that two people can occupy
one and the same place. Time, although it does
overlap, bears witness to ways that the physical
world cannot. We enter realms of thought at will;
you must move a door to enter a room.
I therefore cannot place you in proper context.
It is your shadow which treads so sloppily
over the countertop and the damask - leading
me to see only obscure edgings and broken lines.
If you were not present, I'd at least be sure of that.
There were weeks at a time when I could do nothing
but walk along the sand. Minarets and windstorms,
oases and hazy figments are all that kept me going.
Water itself became like a horrid dream. I'd memorized,
before I left, prayers and chants for this sort of thing.
Yet even they failed me.
The task was too slow, my energy
too feeble and my meaning too vague.
I'd tried to be a crusader, and instead - like
some optimistic missionary in the darkest woods -
I'd lost my way and lost my definition. Merely a ghost
of myself, I stumbled on with legs hurting, knees cracking,
lips broken and dry. Stuttering for something to say, I grunted
for food and drink. It all came down to nothing.
Shadows and the sun, camels and some prayer shawls,
a chador among some desert women.
Everyone scoffed at what I'd done.
My task was, however, completed. I could die...
sure now of my own salvation.
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