our never ending stories


Awesome poem! Four In The Morning by Wislawa Szymborska The hour from night to day.
… The hour from side to side.
The hour for those past thirty. The hour swept clean to the crowing of cocks.
The hour when earth betrays us.
The hour when wind blows from extinguished stars.
The hour of and-what-if-nothing-remains-after-us. The hollow hour.
Blank, empty.
The very pit of all other hours. No one feels good at four in the morning.
If ants feel good… Read More