when the freeze-frame shutters come crashing down
and the stars all shine in the frozen ground
and the ice shot through me just drips away
and the drips disappear through the cracks in the clay
when i'm lost without hope in the forest of dreams
and my whole bag of tricks comes apart at the seams
then i think i can make it but i don't know why
and i shake my fist at the mote in my eye
Little Black Book by Wayne Myers