night's lights

i have to believe

that every ray of light

is carefully painted

into the very big

and the very small spaces

because each carries

something

so much greater than itself

a suggestion

of the care

that everything feels for itself

as from the void – a blue fountain

of light splashed forth.

our heads raised up to the mountain –

and it has fled north,

scattered above the black distance

in golden hues,

and here, again, an arch, a spiral,

a sphere, a swirl,

in green, yellow, fire-red, sky-blue –

night's lights go on...

and, having stirred for no reason,

wither from view.

alexander blok october 1913