while Herr Schulze

2

Please let me (help) you (solve) that puzzle.
Where's the book? It's on the table.
Ages melt away like something made out of dust. Rotting paper,
musty paper, paper more dust than paper.

All morning you sit at the table,
hands moving back and forth over limitless waste,
almost like taking away the fourth wall of a room
and looking at its content. Shelves set on a walled hill.

Like a secret out in the dark. Elephant dung on the carpet.
Ignoring that smell of daily work, error,
that empty place in universe, a shadow on the carpet.

Remember. Any step taken could be a mistake.
Words, words, words.
Equal to each other we don't need to be the same thing.