HOW NICE IS ALL THAT?
Somehow, the overnight full moon is on my left at
5am; I am swimming around in memories : my napkin
exfoliates, there is a perfect stillness in the darkened
trees, the air holds secrets and Time itself is leaving
new messages and running on. I stand alone, here,
to entreat an entry into some newer life. How akin
to nothing at all, how different really, is any of
that...How nice is it actually at all?
-
I shouldn't know, and I never will : carparks and
carports, garages and lots, everything all jumbled
together. This wild world sleeps, silent and stable,
in its slumber, while I take these messages back.
I once walked the stars in my own cosmic twinkle.
Now, new lines bring me back and keep me on
this Earth. And how nice is all that?
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