as a golden repair
there she was
suddenly coming in
like segments of
illumined alcoves
from that small room
wherever I may go
I only get to dream
a state of my mind
so gentle, so kind
perhaps, it's tradition
of the not-so-distant
East—
if I may try to, once again,
fish myself out
from this rubble
but none yet, in this world,
has ever done
what I have only
known in their
very own culture—