Читать книгу Days and Times - Paul K. Hooker - Страница 11

To the star-flecked Darkness

he said, for no apparent reason:

I have nothing of any use

to say.

The night went on

around him, solar winds

chasing constellations through

the corridors of shadow

to obscure destinations.

Aware of his irrelevance,

he remembered fervent days

when he prayed prayers

that mattered, moved the world.

But these night-winged words

are just balloons inflated

with helium-colored hopes,

full of squeaky certainties;

when they burst, as they will

if ever they rise high enough,

the Darkness laughs.

He thought,

maybe I make the Darkness

laugh. At least that’s something,

isn’t it?