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Transit Zone by Martin Burke  < back : index : next >   

D u b r o v n i k

What is it the mind (and for the mind read the soul)
reaches for? It is beauty of course, indefinable beauty
in the outlandish landscape of the world.

Does the stone conceal it? Does water flow over it?
Is it (as we hope) tangible? Is it strange or familiar?
What is its diamond core? How shall we know it?
What will be the change that it will bring?

Oh Dubrovnik, it's true you gave
no defining answer but gave to me
the island with the name of a Goddess,
offered a landscape in which the answer
seemed tantalizingly near
where shadows suggested outline, suggested a core,
suggesting that the mind reach there once more
for the indefinable it was lured towards
and which this once it might capture.

Instead I compose from my failures a life which says
I have searched for it, I search for it yet. For look,
here I come one more with open hands
and a mind cast between the bewildered and the ravished.

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