A poem of mine published in the literary magazine "International Gallerie" Painting by my artist friend Tang Yeok Khang As I lay me down to sleep in the cradle of the Valley of Ashes, images of concrete in my mind do seep. Muscular modern structures rising from marshes stare me down like steely, stolid gods, paying no heed to my scarred wishes. Men in grey-black suits shuffle in hordes through the streets paved with cruel tar, the cogs of their minds turning by rusty rote. In this alien kingdom nothing rules like cars, which line up orderly bumper to bumper from the cracked pavement to the dying stars. Now up in the smoky air I hunger-linger, waiting to chance upon a crystal piece of sky, where dreams and wishes inspire wonder. The sun breaks through and a window strikes. The world ignites as on the seventh day, when Man himself was still god-like. In a garden dressed in the purity of May, He strolls in the mi