Taskmasters transmit instructions a billionfold
per second. Their silence has been known
to throw a harsh light under tables, into forgotten
corners, then galloping off to a border outpost
on fresh horses.

Across the square, down a little to one side,
is the residence of one rich from the East.
Silk tapestries, agonizingly detailed cushions,
rugs, gold threaded jade trinkets, gem stones
of all kinds, in glittering abandon scatter
ceramic tiled floors. Tread easy there.
He must be visited. Make an appointment soon.

The war continues apace. News of disasters
follows that of victories (the mood of the people
is noticeably changing). Flags are hoisted
hourly, reflecting the committee’s wishes
as instructed.
Oh! the tedium of it all.

Kings tamper with their disputes, civilizations
rise, empires blossom, fall . . .

A lost child grows thinner, living on the songs
of clouds

Make an appointment soon.


© 1998 Paul Davies & Black Cat Communications
All rights reserved