terça-feira, dezembro 06, 2005

The Creating of the Question Mark


It grew slowly

Atom by atom

Curving its serpentine line

Around a doubt

The sickle that mows down everything

Like a lily

Unfurling into reason’s limbo quietly

And it left in its wake

A single teardrop

A tiny pin-prick of salt

That minute mirror

Begetting Wonder


Maurya Simon