Thou art dried up and dead as a waterless root

Of some vegetation which is not hardy with

The tumultuous times of trivialities that travail

Even the most arduous and diligent cedar–

Yea, even that of Lebanon upon which falls

The dew of Heaven each morning unto mid-

Day, when thereupon shines forth the sun,

Brilliant and bright like an illuminated light–

Which it is!–for thus so it is thus and thusly!

Yea, as the sun brightens in the brilliance

Of the noonday and becomes the sun it was

Thus made manifest to be, so you dry up in

A withered state as a dead, dry worm encrusted

Upon the very sole of the earth, driven down-

Ward like the dust of ashes fallen down as the

Fresh morning dew, but not so fresh or so new.

Thou art that which is dry, dead, withered, as

An unwatered root of some vegetation that is

Without the hardiness to withstand the ages

Or outlast the degrading age of the clock of

Time. Thou art my very own self and I am thee,

To whom I write these words of coded verse,

Clear as the noonday sun, shining in all of its

Brilliance, while thy face lies down in the dirt.