Hel
lo,
dark
ness,
my
old
friend.
I’ve
come
to
talk
with
you
a
gain,
be
cause
a
vi
sion
soft
ly
creep
ing
left
its
seeds
while
I
was
sleep
ing.
And
the
vi
sion
that
was
plant
ed
in
my
brain
still
re
mains
with
in
the
sound
of
si
lence.
In
rest
less
dreams
I
walked
a
lone
saw
nar
ten thou
row
sand
streets
peo
of
ple,
cob
may
ble
be
stone,
more.
’neath
Peo
the
ple
ha
talk
lo
ing
of
with
a
out
street
speak
lamp,
ing,
I
turned
peo
my
ple
col
hear
lar
ing
to
with
the
out
cold
and
lis
damp
t’ning,
when
peo
my
ple
eyes
writ
were
ing
stabbed
songs
by
the
that
flash
voic
of
es
a
ne
nev
on
er
light
share,
that
and
split
no
the
one
night
dare
and
dis
touched
turb
the
the
sound
sound
of
of
si
si
lence.
lence.
And
in
the
na
ked
light
I
lone
saw
nar
ten thou
row
sand
streets
peo
of
ple,
cob
may
ble
be
stone,
more.
’neath
Peo
the
ple
ha
talk
lo
ing
of
with
a
out
street
speak
lamp,
ing,
I
turned
peo
my
ple
col
hear
lar
ing
to
with
the
out
cold
and
lis
damp
t’ning,
when
peo
my
ple
eyes
writ
were
ing
stabbed
songs
by
the
that
flash
voic
of
es
a
ne
nev
on
er
light
share,
that
and
split
no
the
one
night
dare
and
dis
touched
turb
the
the
sound
sound
of
of
si
si
lence.
lence.
“Fools!”
said
I,
“You
do
not
know
si
lence
like
a
can
cer
grows.”
“Hear
my
words
that
I
might
teach
you.
Take
my
arms
that
I
might
reach
you.”
But
my
words
like
si
lent
rain
drops
fell,
and
ech
oed
in
the
wells
of
si
lence.
And
the
peo
ple
bowed
and
prayed
to
the
ne
on
god
they
made.
And
the
sign
flashed
out
its
warn
ing
in
the
words
that
it
was
form
ing.
And
the
sign
said,
“The
words
of
the
proph
ets
are
writ
ten
on
the
sub
way
walls
and
ten
e
ment
halls,
and
whis
pered
in
the
sounds
of
si
lence.”
