The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 48

Such nudity is my condition and I revel in my condition. So, who is he, that
master workman; that I might be him? Gloss in the margin of a text where
the text folds in on itself with a fine weaving – yes, let that be my guide if a
guide there is to be. or failing that a blank page awaiting the forms of my
signature.
(O Fortuna it will be thus!) nor lesser brightness be unto me a guidance.

They are not my kind yet I am among them yet they do not see the
subversion. I the enemy within. I escaping the massacre. I the flute player
atop the desolate gates of an over-thrown city.
Desolation.
The earth is desolate but I will populate it again. Ark of language. Potent
verb, bright (and brightening) adjective. And the noun will assume its
rightful place and occupation. I giver, I weaver, I woven thus nor otherwise
shall be. living in the verb To Be (speak against that my accusers for speak
against it you will).
Yet this is my commandment unto you.
As it was aforetime so shall it be hereafter.
But this is not world’s end. Merely one road leading into another. Junctions
and joining – yes, but also the separations of the ways. Which path shall I
choose when I have already chosen.
Geography does not matter yet destinations do not lie.
Mine the singular way. Mine to be the un-trodden path which I’ll delineate.
Make of my world the world as it is. World that will be with or without its
amen. No more fitting closure. My footprints for others. Others will, others
won’t. (what are we that we should not be other?) yes, question wind and
water. Question even the un-answering air.
I question and I answer to my own satisfaction.