so we have made a mistake

so we have made a mistake

and world is not lost to us,

there is still world, as we

still ask about our hands,

about the bats, about

the men in coats walking

down there in the rain



not a world we can trust

with unflagging loyalty no

sometimes we must fly

into other atmospheres,

even if we carry with us,

always carry with us

the poisons of our own air



then we will land again,

we will crash again into dust

but even through its mist

swirling in this new desert

we can discern world, rising

like a sand castle, exposed

at all times to sea, but there



we will stop our searching

after world, some semblance

of world after losing world

when we realize that world

is in every of our gestures,

that world is even right there

in the boredom over world



it is a world that surprises

a world of world losses

a world of world evaporation

a world of quick devastation

but this is not world itself,

for world itself is still and shy

world itself makes no outcry