And I saw myself in the afterlife of rivers and fields
among the wandering souls and light-flecked paths.
There I was amazed to find
the damned and the innocent
commingled so, torturers and victims,
masters, sycophants and slaves
idling arm in arm, chatting
about nothing, about the fullness and ripeness
of nothing, the pleasures of the day
and of the hearth fires to follow
in the evening calm.
And they turned to me as one
and I heard their words, their
calls, each syllable, each phrase
but could not make them out.
And I saw myself struggling to wake,
howling and foaming like a dog,
biting at empty air.