I have not eaten properly for weeks.

I have ignored the offerings of little things
In hesitations, turnings round to look again
At light, and waters, glances, steps and whispers.

Instead

I've trudged to no avail the barren flats.
Sought pretended safety among the many
Many in their repeating teeming empty worlds.

Almost believed in them. From time to time.

Then I cleared a space.
Saw the table of the day,
Looked up.

There.  The trees.
The blue sky through the trees.