The dead forrest I go seeking
A meaning for my soul
My compass has no needle
No breadcrumbs I have left
From the ditch’s bottom
With broken legs I crawl
My prophet has not spoken
Abandoning us all
Filthy water filthy cups
Bread and maggots to fill me up—
I eat nonetheless
Nonetheless I drink
Walking miles I’ve gone nowhere
Through a dead forrest’s mist and trees
To see through a glass darkly
Is to see nothing at all
Flaps of wings above me
Crows escape their nest
Perhaps, there above me
In heaven lay my rest