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Something Different

Reflections of The Waste Land, lines 19-30

And still those voices are calling from far away...

I have no answer in this place.
I’m in the irony of space
Reinventing Major Tom
Every fifty years or so.
I want to hide from the sun,
Clutch the earth and feel it under me,
The dirt from where I come
To where I go.

I want to run. I want to hide
In the shadows of my mind
Of a morning stretched before me
And an evening closing in.
I can’t understand the voice
Calling me a child of choice,
heir apparent, prince of mortals,
Son of man.

I want to understand
But I don’t know what to say.
The sun has been relentless
And the garden’s far away.
Planet Earth is gray
And I haven’t got a clue.
I don’t know what to say
And I don’t know what to do

Show me
a hard rock world
or a mote in the universe,
a resting place
or a tombstone to tip;
Show me
a shelter from the sun
or a rock to roll away,
well-weathered pavement
or a cornerstone.

I have no answer in this place
Full of wasted dessert space,
Emptiness and broken images,
No hint of life, no sound
But the whisper of that voice
Showing me a fearful choice
In the shadows as they shimmer
On the ground.

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