This to be the rock upon whose crest
I could build the temple
On whose minarat
I would whisper
The murmur of my worship
This to be the shelter
Where in the passage of night to dawn
I could share the loneliness of my nights
And dreads of shadows
With the strength of its walls.
Delirious fancies passed.
Mists of thoughts evaporated.
A man was found chained by shoulders and ankles
To the base of an abyss.
No soul heard his moaning for a slice of passing light.