A Dark Thing
A dark thing, lived in a dark place.
It knew its name, but not its face.
It saw nothing.
It felt nothing.
It smelt nothing.
I have no form; I can't be seen.
I have no eyes; I see nothing.
I have no nose; I cannot smell.
So what I am, I cannot tell.
This dark thing, was all alone.
It had no friends to call its own.
It never had, to say a word
And in the dark, no sound was heard
A Confused Thing
Then one day, this thing, it fell
And it let out, such a yell
That it scared, itself, to bits
And its voice, echoed, for weeks
I am noisy; that was too loud
I am crazy; to make such a sound
I am many; my voice replies
Just what am I, just what am I?
Eventually, a light was come
Upon all things, this light was shone
Before new eyes, the light revealed
Just what it was, the dark concealed
A Revealed Thing
Now this dark thing,
Was not so dark.
It was in fact,
The brightest spark
It made no noise
But for that shrill
It wasn't many
Nor crazy still
This bright spark, was beautiful
And all who saw, were enviable
A sight like this!? You'd be remiss,
Should you forget, or chance to miss
A Bright Thing
For this bright spark, so beautiful
Was quite more, than "pretty cool"
It was so calm, and so serene
That all who neared, found it soothing
Yet poor bright spark, it could not tell
For all it knew, it was in hell
It could not see, for it was blind
It could not taste, it could not smell.