Atlantic City, NJ, Feb. 22, 1972

On the way

By Vladimir Huber

Little candles
calling me from the distance.
I am not sure,
but something stops me.
Maybe is the human rain,
that has got me so wet.
Maybe is the dampness
of my poverty,
shared by so many.
Whatever, I feel the slippery ground,
while I keep on moving,
perhaps getting closer.
I felt the heat and the beat;
I knew I was much closer.