at the quiet beginning of tomorrow
we wake and there is nothing but blackness
what will we do?
because I don't think that even the druids with beards and prayers could
bring back the light
the hot August light that we pray for all year
and you and I, together we make a spark but
there's really nowhere for the spark to go without the sun and
even if all the lovers in the world exploded in ecstasy like summer fireworks
it wouldn't be enough
even if we wake up and there's nowhere to go and we blunder like hypothermic bison through the night
even if someone somewhere like makes a machine of warmth like da Vinci and
even if we thought about it and someone told us it would be black would we listen
even if we all stopped on the subway and faced Mecca or even if we all asked a wicked witch
we would be wanting for
a bigger light
but we, you and I, can hope and
half-guessed, divinely realized
maybe the sky will turn gold again.
