The GREAT CREATOR

When the dog barks in the silence of the night,

And my ears are stirred awake by the crickets,

I call out a name without a sound.

Yes, without a sound, but the rain hears me and answers with its thunder.

The cold wind tears through my bones.

I imagine the one I call—if only they could come. If only...

What I see in my mind has yet to arrive.

What echoes in my ears has yet to appear.

What I think of has yet to come.

What I thought was there was only an empty shadow. Can I endure this?

I can’t even imagine something that makes me imagine.