Lifting of a siege

I still have these marks of identification about me, these clues by which I Find the center of my circle Almost like a hunter abiding by the honest telling of his compass in spite of all Like Crusoe feeling through all his leather pockets to find the bit of string the Stub of pencil -- small references to a familar world I still discover notices assuring me that I have been that I got here by a way Something -- bracken or quiet water in a brook -- took my footprint for an instant Authenticated me as when you cross at a checkpoint and the soldiers shrugs you On because he finds nothing to keep you back the truth of who you are shines so clearly Time has taken only this much -- things worth the forgetting even place and Circumstance You and I remain -- unencumbered Realized.