A Heap of Broken Images @brokenimages-zine - Tumblr Blog

What are the roots that clutch, What branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, For you know only

A heap of broken images, Where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, The cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water.

Only there is shadow under this red rock,

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock,)

And I will show you something different

from either Your shadow at morning

striding behind you,

Or your shadow at evening

rising to meet you;

I will show you fear

in a handful

of dust

Frisch weht der Wind Der Heimat zu

Mein Irisch Kind, Wo weilest du?

A Heap of Broken Images