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.