Читать книгу The Invisible God - John J. Brugaletta - Страница 15

A clearing in old growth,

a campfire at its hub,

our tents pitched all around

along the edge of light.

We lay in sleeping bags,

some telling tales

to push the dawning near

the threat of darkened woods.

The stories went around

until we mostly were

agreed that some had shed

new light upon the fire—

redundancy of course.

Some lay along the edge,

while others went too far

into the baffling dark

for us to understand,

and so brought in more dark.

We've moved our tents away

at almost every dusk

to know more of what used

to be the trackless dark.

But some still love the dark

because it seems to them

that it will make them free.

We've had no word from them,

only their gargled pleas.