The Dire Assets
The small land trembles before
This vast barrenness; the lifelong
Habit of trees will not appease us
We must shed
All customs and platitudes to stand
More freely, bejewelled and brave.
When irony is becoming too intimate
It all comes and wheels steadily around, until
I am led through empty spaces
On the other side of the Air.
My ears peer into things
And my eyes are listening
I look up and see the world
I look down and see the world
Until all there is is world within me.