(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

The Night

The night.
With all the stars twinkling bright.
And appear as they do,
Light years away.
So far and distant.
In the massive sky above.
Seem unable today,
To compete with the multitude of lies.
Near to hear on Earth.
With a doing to create them.
As if for all eternity,
They will continue without end.
Even to notice them heard,
Coming out from mouths during the day.
Gobbling up the truth.
Disappearing.
Into an array of fast moving lips...
Devouring its existence.

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