The night still frightens you. <br />You know it is interminable <br />And of vast, unimaginable dimensions. <br />"That's because His insomnia is permanent," <br />You've read some mystic say. <br />Is it the point of His schoolboy's compass <br />That pricks your heart? <br /> <br />Somewhere perhaps the lovers lie <br />Under the dark cypress trees, <br />Trembling with happiness, <br />But here there's only your beard of many days <br />And a night moth shivering <br />Under your hand pressed against your chest. <br /> <br />Oldest child, Prometheus <br />Of some cold, cold fire you can't even name <br />For which you're serving slow time <br />With that night moth's terror for company.<br /><br />Charles Simic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-oldest-child/
