Where is the hope

That once had lived

In the heart

Of the shallow hill?

Has it sunk

Below the muddy mire

Of the lowest hole,

Or risen above

The stormy waters

Of the bleak sky?

How can I cope

With this withering sieve,

For my part

Is so hollow, still?

Must I flunk

My ordeal by fire

Of my screaming soul,

Or stop thinking of

The mental slaughters

In which I die?

(written in 1978)