Deep in the grey jungle of concrete you may meet him.
The ancient god of megapolis
Light in his neon eyes is wise and wild. Humanlike.
The spirit of city. You find him as you feel…
Cold glance of stone walker,
Heartbeat of sub-stations,
Grey beast at predation,
Brisk jet plane hawker,
Night shepherd of trains,
Star lighter of fires,
Black spider in wires,
Drug weaver of veins.
Thousand places and thousand faces and
People in crowds and steeple in clouds and
Pedal in metal and rattle of battle and
One who is one is about to be gone.
We are his parish, flesh and blood (flesh for the worship, blood on the altar),
Ants in an anthill in a scud (in the detachment and torpor of soul),
Dwelling in cells of our hives (falling on couch, falling in falter),
Running `r tracks and living lives (live with no sense is a track to black hole).
Night shepherd of trains
© Copyright: Илья Воль, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117011506430
Свидетельство о публикации №117011506430
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