I am as Lonely as Falling Drops of Rain

I am as Lonely as Falling Drops of Rain

I am the poem that began at dawn.

One day all the sand of Abyssinia

sprouted from my eyes

and all the perfume in Paris originated

from my fingers. Another day

I saw the moon rise on a river

in the Far East, saw her drown herself

completely drunk on life.

I also remember that long night

when I wept bitterly the wrath of God

in the dying eyes of a sad alpaca.

And that other day when I opened

two hundred and eighty-three doors

looking for a letter that said:

We learned to challenge darkness

with more darkness.

I am that poem that began at dawn 
but soon ended.