Prayer
Then came the hour of our prayer, useless chains unto which
we sacrificed youth and vital tree shoots. The vacant plaza with
a few finches in the shrubs, the only answer to our questions.
Greediness of the selected few reigned over our symbols,
holes poked through our youthful dreams.
Someday we shall change the world.
Someday we shall create something better.
The steps of the stairs creaked as if from the heavy steps
of our dead, steps full of guilt which smart people had placed
deep inside us since the ancient times. The cypress was always
silent on the opposite sidewalk. Myriads of fallen leaves,
soldiers in the front line, while He stood on top of the table
and we heard Him as clear as a bell when He said.
I like those who choose their self-destruction.
Manolis Aligizakis 