Friday, January 17, 2014

4940. HINTERLAND


HINTERLAND
Far and far, distant and distant,
longer than the sound of sound.
The reach of the ocean has pattered
the iron wheels of this chair I sit in.
-
The builders have built the house I am
in : gone now, and finished, they have
their own memories of what they've seen.
-
And I am here, left, within this corridor
that seems leading to light and presence.

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