The Vigil

by Pavel Chichikov

Each day they wait for Noah’s rain to stop,

The sky grows even darker, forty nights

In one could not be so, the anvil tops

Of clouds swell up, explode in raven height

Mind and soul, expelling God, go out,

One by one the worlds extinguished die,

Each human light surrenders to its doubt,

Drowned into a black eternity

One light to the other far and pale

Vanishes, four candles at the altar

Dwindle in a gust of smoke and fail –

Reason to itself begins to falter

Then the last, the vigil light grows dim

But all the others must take light from Him

(See Pavel's new book, Mysteries and Stations, here.)

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