To build aquiet city in his mind:
A singleoverwhelming wish; to build,
Not hastily,for there is so much wind,
So many eagersmilers to be killed,
Obstructionsone might overlook in haste:
The ruinedstructures cluttering the past.
A little at atime and slow is best.
Crawling asthough through endless corridors,
Rememberingalways there are many doors
That open toadmit the captured guest
Once only.
Yet in spite of loss and guilt
Andhurricanes of time, it might be built:
A refuge,permanent, with trees that shade
When all theother cities die and fade.
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