①* And yet I am a stranger here; I do not know this place.

I am of the tortured past (the so conveniently forgotten past),

And in this present of the future the past is out of place.

This future present is of death, of silence,

And of the deathlike memory of the life

That is no longer life but deathless death.

②* Because memory will not let me lose it,
I am standing on the blasting, cursing, gasping Horse of Then

That is the dead, decayed, & sleepless Horse of Now,

③* I am safe—for a while, at least.

But I know I must go back some day—provided that I live.

I must see this place in stillness—when the jungle has reclaimed it.

Or I shall never rest.

I cannot sleep tonight... Perhaps a pill.