Alone like a bowl of dust
floating in the ocean
separated from the shores of sorrow
by a thousand miles
I have no more tears to cry

I have
the urge
to reach out
and reassure her
that everything
will be okay

But death is unavoidable
her wishes will break
upon the naked shores
of inevitability

There is no other way
infinity cannot be limited
without dying
strangled to death
by good intents

It is
a lonely road
but it is
the only one there is
naked, barren, austere
The inhospitable land
will not receive you.
Even a thousand years
may not be enough.

A faint echo can be heard in the breeze.
Too faint to be noticed by anyone
except the lonely dragon
so badly hurt that only its hearing is left unimpaired

Always there is choice
torn between truth
and accommodation.
The temptation
to give them what they want

a trembling echo
of repeated attempts
to break down the wall

There is no choice
but going on
keep on keeping on
in the face of doom
and gloom

the land is crying
to be redeemed
to be reunited
with the spirit
that bore it

but it is of no avail
as long as the prisoners
of the planet
want it so.

by Rolf Jackson

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