To be the firefly, descending through the black spires of tamaracks in the forest fire at night. To be the azure spark that skates across the plate of steel, being split by a xenon laser. To be the fleck of radium, painted on the ceiling of the planetarium. To be the Klieg light in the filigree of cities, viewed from orbit on the nightside of the globe. To be the photon in the solar winds, which blast through worlds, like zephyrs through an abandoned field of dandelion wisps. To be the chip of mica, spinning in the rosy rays of sunlight from a supergiant going nova. To be the frozen cinder that scintillates in the stroboscope of a pulsar. To be the final spore, drifting through the stellar abysses, where some ab- sentminded civilization has forgotten to turn off its wars. To be the mote of dust, upon which the blowtorch gorges. To be the fey imp in all living things, yet to be destroyed.
გამოხატეთ თქვენი აზრი მოცემული ლექსის შესახებ კომენტარის სახით!..
