Truth is  hard to find – the years ahead, the years behind,

Yet find it we do – in snatches – on days that go by:

On days when nothing is decided,

On throw-away days such as these:

Smells and  bells, and all the frumpery of lawns.

Children connect us to the truth: goblins and elves

Fairy tale worlds without end

Now elude us

Metaphors are not fit to give it shape

Nor are the big words

That frighten us so.

The whole edifice of 'reality' crumbles

With all its contrary implications

Leaves us silent,

Staring at a world that's out of reach.

◄ In commemoration of the fall of Kōnstantinoúpolis 29 May 1453

Entanglement (Verschränkung) ►


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