Mt futility and the wisp of hope
are swallowed by the saint who walks down the road of water.
the sad little garden that cost me so dear, won from total barrenness
and regal Justice raises her standard
I must wait a minute
for the love letter to arrive
my mind will be clear of clouds
the soul of time is in my house
to bend and bow
(I hope and fear)
to work with the warp and waft of the world