by ST, late 1980s
In a forest green and wild I spied by a brook a little child babbling a current of indistinguishable joys, playing some little game, twigs and pebbles for toys. In a jungle where jealousy's flame was fanned I looked at the torrent that passed for a man, of passions ablaze--that ran to and fro-- toying with people, using them, stones & sticks to throw. In a steppe all barren and waste I wandered, searching, in that lonely place for someone to talk to, someone to hear-- someone to laugh, then solace my tears. At the end of my life in a cultivated place I thought there I recognized an old man's face-- furrowed the brow in contemplating the ground: he looked up, his eye chuckled, my peace was found.
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