Images come to him,
superimposed on each other,

bouncing off walls
and sliding down telephone poles.

His mother smiling at him
at the old dining table.

His father reading to him
from an old wise man’s book.

His brother advising him
on mysterious esoteric matters
which seem most relevant now,

now that he is alone and wandering
in a treacherous maze
of traps and dangerous bargains.

But the memories slip away from his fingers

in the storm of images and sounds and fire
that engulfs him from all sides.

There is a home somewhere but it is lost.

There is Being that waits
but it has vanished
in the bright darkness.

There is a place to rest
but it is not here,
not now.

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