Through the Mud (from the book Blue Bridge) A line of robots, We approach a wall of mud, Some of us carrying flowers. The others laugh Bit when we enter that wall It is the flowers That will make us an ark To carry us on through the darkness, Sailing through With our symbols the only light Until we fly Out over the fields On the other side of midnight And all our wires And bits of metal fall off.- And our souls are bright again, So new and light They shoot up – Up to plant our brilliant flowers Like stars In the face of heaven.