It’s like fishing in the dark,
If you ask me:
Our thoughts are the hooks,
Our hearts the raw bait.
We cast the line over our heads,
Past all faith, past all believing,
Into the starless midnight sky,
Until it’s lost to sight.
The line’s long unravelling
Rising in our throats like a sigh
Of a long-day’s weariness,
Soul-searching and revery.
One thought against the Supreme
How about that?
Looney-tunes, fishing in the dark
Out of an empty sleeve
With a mourning band on it.
The fly and the spider on the ceiling
Looking on, brother.
- Charles Simic