The Map of a Mirage

The Map of a Mirage


The streets, the houses & the books,
the possessed rooms, the inviolate joy 
that inhabits gardens. Climate change, 
the enigma burning on the wall 
like a hunting trophy.

All this, nothing more than a blink, a mirage.
A foggy carnival, a congregation of elves, 
the light sleep of an ascetic in the desert.

The clocks have a mocking air about them here, 
the almanacs are true satires, doors & windows
close & open on the most confusing landfill.

Remoteness, a sonata to the ears.
Ah, the dream of the encounter was so short.
What are these trifle thoughts against eternity?