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I have desperate schemes,
but no plans.
When pushed against a wall
I scrape and claw
till I find a way out.
Or I search for a window with a view
and look to the horizon
for a thread of intention,
a glimmer of hope.

As time goes by
I see changes taking shape
in others’ lives while I,
like the French poet Apollinaire
who watches the waters flow
beneath a bridge,
can only say, “je demeure.”

Before all those builders
of lives, who, stone by stone,
hour by hour, will leave behind
monuments of vision and excellence,
I stand in awe.