I waited for a vision
at the foot of an ancient, granite statue
in a kingdom from yesterday.
I left offerings of saffron,
of silver rings and golden robes,
of calf's-blood red wine.

In the luminescence of
a fat Greek moon
I closed my eyes and waited
for whatever was to come.

Sleep was black, hopeless,
and I woke to nothing.

One vision, I prayed
for I was old,
and knew the greatest treasure
was the unknown—

and what is more unknown than tomorrow?

And so she came,
that granite statue,
into my dreams,
her slender fingers (like those of a
violinist) adorned with my gifts.

Tomorrow, I asked
and she laughed at my youth.

Tomorrow? she jeered,
so horrible, so beautiful, so proud.
Even I know nothing of that.

But visions! I said. What of they?

And then
I was awake.
I was curled on stones
in a kingdom from yesterday,
and I knew as little of tomorrow

as when I had come.