Inside the dead, ruined town,
piles of bricks lie scattered,
and the pungent smell of rot drifts through the air.
We keep beginning from nothing,
never reaching the ground of stability,
and abundance remains a distant ghost.
Life in ruins—what a cruel joke.
I have no strength to wipe away your tears,
for I too am drowning in the same swamp of despair.
We are the frogs
who cannot leap
from the pot of water
slowly coming to a boil
KT/25
