On the Death of Arthur C. Clarke

The first crop circle will make me cry
And I will find it all the more difficult
Now
To believe in what I’ve never been able to see

Let hoaxes be our jokes
And mysteries the sound that wakes us from sleep

I know that you are still in Sri Lanka
That there is a wandering shadow
Is not just a coincidence
And now that I can’t
All I want to tell you
Is that there is a long hallway on the third floor
Where something is hiding in the sickly yellow light
And in my worst dreams
There is a large figure that changes shape
Grabbing at me from the darkness
Since my childhood
And a voice in my closet saying
Hello
Hello



Hello…