But who’s this blind-child of my lonely memory,
unwanted morning yet unfollowed by another?
Whose time we chew, whose banner
do we tear apart; why bother?

Alone, bewitched by what complete would mean
if empty’s so rewarding, stand I and mourn…
I’ve lost my mind, I’ve lost my senses
and lost has grown the day when I was born.
…………………………………………………..
“Stand still…” I’m told, “and know…”; and show no pain,
but feel it deep by sides of heart and senses…
So much I know; and time dries bitter ever since
all verbs seem to have lost their future tenses…