"Son of man, / You cannot say, or guess"

20-1; 14.01.10, 16:21 · week 2 alternate · blogged

 

"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water."

- 19-24

Done