...
Saying to myself: The sun is born at midnight,
I made the best of this idiot pilgrimage,
sleeping in the waystations of flight.
In wide arcs of wandering through the city
I saw to either side of what is seen,
noticed treasures where it was thought there were none.
I passed through a more fluid city.
I broke up the imprint of all familiar places,
shutting my eyes to the boredom of modern contours.
There were canals where streets had been.
And powerfully reflected light
obliterated whole ranks of unsuitable buildings.
...
Excerpt from the poem "Vale Royal" by Aidan Andrew Dun.
