Go Back, Iii
Our gods are broken, shattered,
scattered about our feet,
now quite helpless to help us,
but still, or now, prone to afflict us
quite easily as they do
with jagged edges and pointed points
and clean, keen, diabolical slivers,
chopping, puncturing, slicing,
rending our discontented soles.
And it torments us even if we do not move
but more so if we do.
We have walked so far
and gone to no place of value;
myriads of miles
of worthless back and forth
and east, west, north, south,
and the weeping, vengeful broken pieces
have hindered every raw inch
that we barely move,
or fail to move at all.
And heedlessly, needlessly, we endure.
26th March 2005
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