He takes his placewith a precociousness
that makes him little more than camera
the thing that does not matter
the struggle for a particular demon
the demon of light that warbles
in and out of existence;
it runs between the raindrops
the smell of burning witches-
some new perfume
brought over from the Demon-Haunted world-
He finds himself so inexplicably happy.
-for Carl Sagan
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