Lying on the cold concrete,
A flannel blanket folded beneath my head,
A thermos of hot coffee in my hands.
The darkness of the heavens stretch above me,
Dotted through with burning, white-hot stars,
Each the size of a pinprick.
How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?
When was the beginning of the universe,
and where will it end?
What is the destiny of mankind?
A flannel blanket folded beneath my head,
Lying on the cold concrete,
I contemplate my own insignificance.
No comments:
Post a Comment