Pyramids of horse dung leveled by last night's rain, some branches knocked down
as fresh leaves spring up with "the depthless line at the beginning of things."

            Where there is no life,
     as measured against human life,
    there is "a heap of broken images"
good only as potential life; or what was
    once living, but didn't evolve into,
            the life that is our life.

Turning about at the rusty gate swinging open to the National Forest, the whole bloody
business reveals a god, therewith placing war among the authentic phenomena of religion.
And that is why
I trudged over several hills, reaching what looked like the same gate.

I recalled a story in which a man walked out of a city, and after walking a great distance
in the same direction, found himself at the gate of the same city!
The more familiar the path,
                            the more uncertain the way.