Now that the house finally surrenders,
To silence on my terms
My divided time now remembers
How that age has burned
Time interred by the slow procession of beasts,
Burdened by image made, for minds that retreat
Back into that slackened time, where
Nothing is required,
Nothing inspired
Just to be-
And not to have presence of any kind
I know that you think like me,
Our minds are full of blackbirds,
Wind gusts, lost bees, blown twigs
Off course by the night tides
In the particle sea.
The thick of night,
The weight of night,
It enfolds it’s darkened arms around,
All that sleep and wake inside..
Without a sound.
I belong to night, I know you do
It possesses me – it’s majesty
It’s great gift, is the wind
From the wing of owls
And the quiet infatuation
Into mind-
If I could be a dance then,
Dance of night I would be,
Curtsy at the moon a bit,
Then linger momentarily
Before waltzing all the dawn way down
And ending at the sea..
A dream? Awake, if by some
Mistake of fusion, this is here,
Where I’ll always be, then
Perhaps our time holds still in night
And our dance won’t end
And the song won’t stop
And wind will yaw, pitch, ensnare,
And hold you near.
