' A Part'

I’d been staring at the truths before me,
till my sight left me;
blind.

I’d walked a-way,
from a thousand lives.
No I can’t,
recall,
a thing.

It seemed that there was more afoot,
than what,
I was;
aware.

I was some-where else;
always,
cross a
thou-sand
yard stare.

Like letting fly with hand grenades,
in densely packed glasshouses.
Wanting only to be free;
to find
my own
way home.

So I scrape the dust
and dirt and grime,
from all my seconds lost;
and force myself to smile again,
at what
this war
will cost.

' A Part'

Laszlo Totka

Sydney, Australia

  • Artist
    Notes
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