There is a gap wide enough,

Between what we feel, and what we show,

That a jungle lives between;

Neither hers nor mine, but somewhere new.

This country's a paradise, but

This country's a maze, where my sorrows

Stalk my joys through dark forests

Woven thickly through my reveries,

As hungry creatures - by my hand sent,

For the Gods of my forest

Covet no beauty but chaos.

This place has no maps,

Because this place is me;

And I am the blind cartographer

August 2019