The Dead Forrest

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