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---
title: Finding the Lion
id: finding-the-lion
genre: verse

project:
    title: Autocento of the breakfast table
    class: autocento
...

| Tonight, as I look up, the stars
| hide themselves in shame.  [There is no moon][].
| The sky is black, like my desk,

| [nothing like a raven][].  The streetlights
| look on the scene disinterested.
| They have their own [small gossips of the dark][].

| I came here to find the Lion, old
| friend, but he will not show his flanks, his
| paws, his shoulders, [his mane][].  I

| can hear him laughing from his hiding-place
| behind the moon, nonexistent, under
| the cold dead earth.  The mountain is in front

| of me now, a hole of stars daring me
| to pierce it with my sight.  The lion's still
| laughing; the streetlamps talk about

| me amongst themselves, and go out.  There
| never was any lion, they tell me.
| [You only hear the wind][] [on the mountain][].

[There is no moon]: moongone.html
[nothing like a raven]: feedingtheraven.html
[small gossips of the dark]: the-night-we-met.html
[his mane]: axe.html
[You only hear the wind]: cold-wind.html
[on the mountain]: mountain.html