Night
Step out into it
lover of life, go
half-dressed, delirious,
with deep drummings
of insignificance in your life, out
where things are shadows,
and movement is a curse,
because the night
that can be seen
only God knows.
There elements unite
in single triumph
of evolution, dark souls
press their purpose
on each dream.
Heaven is only
the thin moonlit moment
here, that comes between
each tick of nothing,
that presses on nothing,
that is nothing.
© george wicker 2006