Penned by the hand of God are the parameters
This is the land of God and I
Am prepared to settle for far, far less.
I moved like the wind that blows through these rocks
When I came from the hills to the valley
And it is here that I inhabit the spaces
That lie between other people
You ignore me, perhaps I am one of the cats
That has filled all your pavements with empty eyes
Or maybe I am the memory of a leper
A dead image of dead hands, No
I am not the memory, but the reminder
And even though I am only small
We children grow.