I'd spent an eternity 
constructing my dream home.
Today I began to wonder
who it is suitable for- certainly not me.
A  bee, unaware of a way out, finds it by chance.
I began to cross the road...pity me
it's always from the side you're not looking
-the inside-
the speeding truck descends upon you.
      Well, here I am waking up 
after total oblivion, no problem at all.
No worries even if it's thirty years oblivion.
Let's begin half-way through:
on finding the surroundings far from perfect
an infantile rage wouldn't help,
a nagging anxiety or sadness that won't shift
is understandable but little better.
      The most attractive stories begin in perfection. 
The second they move there's the momentous change.
Only because of the tornado in progress do I speak so.
I now aim only to clasp the hoof 
of the nearest flying cow, 
unable to conceive an end to this.