In the Citadel of Suffering,
our confusion masquerades as comfort,
and desert tribes without delusions,
for some strange reason, lead the way out.
We will escape the fortress
despite the beauty and fire,
but no one will praise our freedom,
because we now wear horse head masks.


On the other side of a fever,
you’ll find a vulnerable garden.
If you bring three things there-

      a fearless step forward,
      a knowing brush of the hand,
      and a wild but gentle smile,

then you can disperse the hard knots
of ignorance,
so that the children may know peace.