If you have brought a ladder, take it home.
It will not help you here, in this land,
where even great men lose their authority
in the shadow of the wall.
I have run miles, and miles, and miles
only to trip on my shoelaces
or the remains of other fallen men.
Though, when I stand, I stand taller than before.
Yet never quite tall enough.
Long ago, I was a fool and plucked out my eye
and tossed it to a bird, but could not see a thing,
as the wall has no patience for shortcuts
on this side of great beauty and pain and lust.
I say to you, “Why climb this Great Wall?”
Fingers bleed as you lick your wounds,
all for another chance to remember
you a blind man among blind men.
Instead, you could sit with me and eat fruit.
The wall was not built by the hands of flesh.
Nor will it grant us pity
Because our tears fill the sea,
and drown us as we scream at the sun.
For the day I see over
is the day I grow to a thousand feet
And jump from star to star
as I watch headless chickens play
and remember the hour that I was lost.