A moment repeats itself,
Small peace,
Lucidity.
Sanely out of context
And
Launched into a dream:
Almost a vision,
Of humanity straining,
Scrabbling over post-Holocaust
Under rearing, twisted girders
Over barren ground.
A landscape
Grey and utterly concreted:
The result of that small luxury
Of sheltering from the rain.
This was stark,
Confronting, and true.
Hope was the reaching of eyes
From star to star
In the night-sky
Mapping distant pathways.