He turned in his dream, his sleep
was disturbed and something
moving around up his sleeve.
He couldnīt recall it all, reminded by the half.
He was listening to a friend of his, a philosophical blacksmith,
and in the dream such a title seemed quite natural.
He was listening carefully to an idea proposed by the other:
Imagine places, without a place to stay. Streets
without a known adress, roads on the run, perhaps
whole cities refusing to remain where they were
instead aimlessly wandering
around and round...
A round? I coughed, searching for
a turtle moving up my sleeve.
Well, from our point of view at least,
but who can envision a whole city?
It knows it self! I exclaimed
but the turtle had now been lost.
We don't even know their names,
the blacksmith answered at a growing distance
and I realized I was awakening.
My back was aching, my joints freezing
I took my time to open my eyes white open.
I was lying on the bare field, with noone around,
only a turtle watching me, silently.
But near the horizon a view
of a band of towers marching on...