Here Longer Than Planned

When I first arrived, the night sky was sprinkled with stars,
the city below full of lights, each holding a million promises,
so many in all I could never fathom them.
But I noticed the lights were slowly vanishing,
one at a time, taking their promises with them.
The city grew darker and darker,
turning into isolated specks of white connected by black.
As sunup drew near, only a few lights were left,
enough to remember on one hand,
and each of them now bearing only a thimbleful of promises.
The sun began creeping up behind me,
its brightness gradually revealing what minutes before
had been hidden under the blanket of blackness.
I had no choice. I couldn’t delay any longer.
I set forth to find those few lights that had kept burning.
But I found none of them.
Light without darkness leaves no space for aliens.
I did the best I could, coming to terms with the visibility
and the things it showed me, some horrible
but some wonderful and worth all those lost promises,
the feel and smell of a dog, its tongue washing my face,
the taste of a peach right from the tree, and the magic of math.
I never found those last few lights
but quit searching.
There are so many other things to see, to do.
They’re here, waiting for me.


TT 2009