I have been walking, All day. I have been dreaming My death. My left foot, Imprisoned in sand, My body is slowly, Slowly losing its ground. Even in death, I know what I am: A perceiver so deft yet unable to save his life. I have been walking, Yet I haven't advanced, Like I had been circling A problem too profound. Burning sand Is on my learned skin, It hurts to find out one's stance Was wrong from the first scene. The process repeats itself, And that keeps me interested In knowing more about myself, About my earth, about eternity.