Because the fever flames forever within,
We somehow, somewhere, sometime
Must begin to climb
The wounded weed-infested street
Exploring every empty house
In prescient fear
That nothing will be all that comes
To greet us in the grass-grown yards.
No secret one appears
To swing in splashing sun on derelict gates
Or leap with laughter from the ancient halls
Moldering behind the half-hung doors.
Nobody waits in silent surprise
Beside the crumbling walls.
No ear to hear, can there still be sound?
No eye to see, where is light’s playground?
Love? And no heart to feel:
Who then pleads blindly:
Please, somebody,
Please come and find me.
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