Futility

Brick by brick, on a field of green
You built them strong and mighty tall
Walls to make you deaf and blind
Yet you see them still and hear them all

Pillars and beams to bar the sky
Mortar, mud and cauldrons of tar
Visions and thoughts they seep in still
No window unshut nor a door ajar

Curtains, coats and blankets hazaar*
Ales, wines, smoke as blue as the bard
The din of waves and the twinkle of stars
And yet these pangs, they strike you hard.

Forlorn, tired and aching you lie,
Throw spiteful, rabid questions around.
"Wherefrom do these feelings come?
Where indeed can my peace be found?"

A fool you are to think you can try
To shut out from you that which you breathe
When the air is steeped and laden with
Desires and dissappointments of a bygone bliss. 

*hazaar - thousand (hindi)