Day To Dusk Poem by Noah Smits

By chance
By a roll of a three on a sphere
you were here.
Something came out of nothing
and rather than questioning
you kicked back
cozied up against this glitch called reality.

All odds kept you in the darkness.
All probabilities kept you in the darkness.
All others remained in darkness.
The sun rose—with a scream they scattered—
as did your memories of night
in the palpable embrace of morning.
Day!
All you were was Day!
The rows of houses, the schools, the offices,
the expanse of countryside.
You were pushed along so fervently,
not knowing,
hardly guessing.

Then someone told you it would end.
Night to day to night again.
Thought will do nothing to change it.
Prayer will light but a single lamp
in a granite ward of ghosts.
Learned men stagger with faces like skulls,
saying, "There is no solution."
Appreciation falls by the wayside;
only ignorance persists.
Those who love to black out needn't worry,
for the future is their domain.

A candle flickers.
Something crashes outside in the yard.
A telegram arrives,
barely legible in the advancing dusk.
"Kiss it before you miss it."