I have wandered for a hundred years. Each year, a word expressed. In a desert of hedges, I tie a white flag to each dead end.
I never revisit until I want to remember or perfect. Whenever I find the end, there will be sanctuary and rebirth.
A man will marvel enough to ask: I neither hear nor answer. Inside is too important, the answer not applicable.
Soon, a gap revealed – escape. Leave this ruin, sail upstream to another ruin. Therein, question marks I'll replace with white flags.
I'll ask him what they mean. He'll neither hear nor answer.
Neil Ross almost 10 years ago
Thanks...The Circular Ruin was to blame for this one. Trying to get into how compact and sparse Borges could be, but include my own idea.