«in the time of my confession,
in the hour of my deepest need.
when the pool of tears beneath my feet
flood every newborn seed.
there’s a dying voice within me
reaching out somewhere,
toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
i hear the ancient footsteps
like the motion of the sea.
sometimes I turn,
there’s someone there,
other time it’s only me.
i am hanging in the balance of the reality of man»