The sky is slate tonight

And the buildings but mist before it -

Fiery mist

Burning with Industry.

This is Brooklyn then.

This is the what is coming and the now.

From bed it seems a remarkable thing

And in the mind’s eye it is a fearsome dream.

Remember childhood

The warning goes -

All things lead to moments like this

But to be prepared – impossible.

The sky is slate tonight

And by day is lapis streaked with promise.

See it – its dominion over the harbor

Its cloud the clear bell of consciousness -

Of conscience.

This is history now

This is home and this is the gong of motion

The turning of the world -

Industry and its conscience.

I have known no one who has harvested slate

But many have burned in dreams and promise

Many have warned against childhood -

It is too remarkable a thing, they say

But I am too afraid to know better.