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XIV. Civilization

Mutely, like large dreams witnessing the moon:

flowers hardly live here, the world’s packed it in;

you realize too late what your life foretold:

your life – false heaven! or thundering hell!

no rose bush stands above all loves;

in “sentimental” winds, industrial gases churn:

it turns the nose and gut, lungs breathe it in –

my rotting brain screams! I start to think:

like a Neanderthal on whose face

appears by chance the twist of rationality:

Chaos! and we proudly become brain-beings!

…that I fly from all this, forever and far.

I’ve sought my tiny home forever because –

resigned – I’m already seeking my own calm:

I walk the valley of green and silent dreams.