Autophony

A glossy notice on the board said "Write an entrance test for an opportunity of a lifetime among the very best". I filled up the form, paid up the fee and as I wrote my paper I looked here and there; for I wanted for me a shoulder to cry on. An express letter in the mail said I'd made it to stage two. So an interview was the next thing along the chosen few. I befriended a fellow interviewee. Facing the committee I looked here and there; I hoped that his would be a shoulder to cry on I was diffident and frail; He broad-shouldered, strong-willed. He'd console me at the bad time when I heard my hopes were killed. But I made the list; God! He did not. As I stood bewildered I looked here and there; I had wanted for me a shoulder to cry on. But it was mine that had to be the shoulder to cry on!

The Sun dies on a summer eve; his light at last dissipates. The shadows lengthen under the streetlamps’ wistful, flickering, even extinct illumination. Then Night begins her rule and the stars sing a million – oh! A billion – little stories – each an epic in its realm, but a footnote in mine. The bull over the west; can you hear his groans? The hunter with drawn sword and bow and his dog at his heels claim their gory trophy and sing a victory chant! The bear looks on, its gaze turned northward, tranquil and unconcerned. But the night is mine – The many-headed serpent. Run away to your houses, frail men, beware my slithering children! Safe between your walls, lamps lighted, you open your windows to let in a sliver of moonlight and shut it again when you glimpse my blazing form! My writhing figure dancing on the zenith, my tongues aflame, and my tail in gracious curves rule the night! The moon shines dejectedly in waning glory, and the planets flee at my approach – The night is mine! Kno