What was this night before
man invented time
did hummingbirds still their wings
or crickets drop their tune
somewhere a blade of grass bent
humbly beneath an empty sky
or perhaps nothing changed
not the glittering ball
or a countdown kiss
the way confetti glimmers
in the flash of our self-made glories
outside in the silent places of the world
a river gives birth to itself from a cradle
of stone there will be no fanfare
when at last it joins lips with the sea
only the sand will remember
only to forget
while we throw ourselves again
into the night that swallows us
whole.
-Anonymous
No comments:
Post a Comment