Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Night

The devil is only as evil as we are,
As wounded, as cursed -- his coyote chuckle
Echoes through the night a kind of kindness --
After the blows have landed, on what remains of our flesh,
All pretense of dreaming torn clean, all reasons
Not to love.
                      The clamoring herd moves like clouds past the stage
And an eerie quiet of light resumes
                                                               so meaningful
The candle now
                             still bearing light after war.

1 comment:

the walking man said...

That was probably a Zippo and not a candle, the winds of war tend to extinguish everything for the darkness to work.