Little Lives

Darkness has swept the world,

crushed with its teeth

the fragile stalks

of the soul’s delicate life.

It has no eyes to see

what is being lost

or what is coming.

The sense of life

is in the primitive touch alone.

The darkness becomes intoxicated

in confirmation.

But rapidly loneliness is coming

and the lethal teeth

are melting

in the fire of disembodied life,

which rages beyond touch

and begets boundless forms

which the soul alone sees –

with grace, with beauty, with affection

in the eyes of the being

with a destiny

always great.

There where the touch of darkness dies

and its sacrilegious hand falls

the world is resurrected

and its intention with it.

(Photograph by Yiannis Zisis)