Lying awake alone
and desperate for day,
to absence and to darkness
this I began to say:
If only it might come
that after all this pain,
futility of endings,
some being might explain
what this is all about -
why animals like us
don't simply roar and mate
and die without a fuss;
why we instead have brains
that know the future tense,
and therefore that we'll die -
though joy has been intense,
and love has seemed to open
doors to eternity
and show us present gods
(for you were god to me).
If we are nothing, how
does nothing know we are?
Can nothing question all,
and number every star?
But no voice ever comes
from out the heart of things
to make sense of our pain
and end these murmurings.
Night thoughts
© Copyright: David Lake, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103020100506
Свидетельство о публикации №103020100506
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