That float about within the room,
Seem attracted to my brain,
And I am filled with others' thoughts,
Specks of trouble, doubt and gloom.
When darkness falls I feel old pain.
Perhaps they're really scraps of prayer
Fragments rent from their one whole
Because they were transmitted, sent
When distress left minds in torment
Flashing signals in despair,
Aware they could not alter doom.
Perhaps I am a good receiver
As I'm not a true believer
Perhaps they settle in my mind
As particles of debris meant
To teach me I must have a care.
And yet I always wish to find
Some means to comfort, though I'm blind
And needs must grope towards the light,
Scraping at each built up layer
To find some truth in dark, black night.
Perhaps absorbing is sufficient
Perhaps once anchored, made secure,
I should not feel I must do more,
Should cease to strive to be efficient
Should be content merely to store
And let these atoms, reminiscent
Of man's sadness through all ages
Rest in peace, my head their tomb.