Oh holey vision what do you see,
As you punch through the grey of the granite?
Blake saw a world in a grain of sand,
I see decay in a city.
But from decay there springs new growth,
From the rancid there comes beauty.
As the rain keeps falling and wetting the ground,
Light streams up inside me.
The prophet steps forth from a rotting pile of rubbish and speaks.
‘Come not unto me to hear the word. For the true word cannot be spoken, only experienced’.
A transparent dome encased the city,
And my vision became blurred,
Both my ears where closed off,
And not a sound was heard.
As I concentrated intently,
A crack began to show.
Through this crack,
I caught a glimpse,
Caspian Hedberg is a young poet living in Dublin.