Occiduous sun
ancient reflex
of things lost at east
and never sought again
Another pointed the way
the great mountains
illusory ocean
But I went west
across the desert
A mess
of probable days
of possible futures
Knowledge
has not extinguished
the astonishment
At the end of the journey I saw
there was no direction
but only time
and the magic of words
Lost sunsets
in the glass of my window
