The dew is indiscriminate and falls on everything.
The shadow is a reflection and draws its own conclusions
The intellect is a jailer with walls for arms.
My memory is a sieve and my thoughts a faithful dog, 
Following the same path along a circular fence.

I am blind,
but my body is faithful and honest.
I stumble in the dark with my eyes closed.

I hear:
Water to my left and wind to my right
the whirr of machines
The scrape of metal on pavement 
A tumble of large shovels

I feel:
Heat on my back
wind and vibration
my steady stride.

The birds are oblivious.