Hold Fast to Dreams
If you have children give them magic —
conjure the scene without inducing fright,
because whatever the news, you are still alive.
Why are we leaving in such unreadiness,
our hands unwrapping the darkness,
binding black hostilities?
They draw on their last cigarettes
just at the moment of their vanishing,
carried in the cold night
where light-enthralling silence lies.
I see, then, that a kind of faith prevails —
truth needs no eloquence.
Nothing is random, nothing goes to waste,