LAMENTATIONS 

He drives through whatever passes through him to the palaces of imagination where old, kind kings rule. And endless conversations are conducted between men and women about the nature of things, about the source of things, about the simple and common beauties that they are privileged to see.

In the palace there are no cameras. There is reality inasmuch as the nucleus of an atom is real; inasmuch as the black holes of space are real.

Angry men and bitter women pass through the daily activities and sear the mind of the poet with a rage that is not his own. Aloof and distant people are filled with a complacency that is not his. Laughing young people fill him with joy. They think their laughter is immortal!

Day and night the activities of the alert city race around the mind of the poet. Voices and instruments hammer the night with a great desire to build.

© 2001 David Eide. All rights reserved.