A Night Without End

Looking at those still mottled traces, do you know why you came here?

Ah! Stop crying and stop laughing, stop wailing and stop screaming ...

You mock it, you demean and insult it—oh, but you believe in it.

Pick it up, please—pick it up, gently lay it down, like the tip of a scalpel.

They say her hands are empty, but who saw what she was really holding?

As they chew the juicier grass, wolves and fences are one and the same.

Those who carry no lamp still wander in the darkness.

It flows quietly, ever constant.