A Poets Endaemonism
A Poets Endaemonism
A word
An infatuation
Idle in the onlookers eye
More space than is bearable
In which thoughts edge their brink
With an abyssal climate
Of lost heart, warmth and heat
A silence that has no one left to cry
Footsteps placed that gathered not one thing
Only countenanced dust in everything
That litter and litany of life
Opened no doors
Gave no chances
Offered no hope
Wait for tomorrows breaking day
The avenues are filled
And yet emptiness walks there constantly
Mirage of bright sun given finally
No beauty recognised
No thought or voice imparted
So returned at last to sanctuary
Sanctuary
Waiting for yesterday
A bright release by sleepwalking
Soft and keening down the thronging streets
A clueless moment for seeking mystery
And stalking the nape of another’s neck
Slipping through a leafy dapple
Forming in the note of a church bell
Floated the dream
By the interlacing of fingers
And the traces of another time
Could anything be renewed
In the heart beat of light and the pulse of love
He thought so very much
Of her
elixir mirage
Gliding in sunbeams through the crowd
She stepped from the breeze
And finally
Finally
Met his eyes
Waiting for today
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