SINGING OF SO MUCH
You have broken all these people on your
rack of doubt and hate - while others
look away I start to hum and sing : all
those songs of love and goodness I may
once have learned, they're coming in
handy now. There is something heard
shattering high, and the wind is blowing
the curtain. Everyone looks up to see
angels. The sky is a border between
the light and the dark.
-
These are the ages we've read about:
that glum and stately age does seem now
upon us; we can do nothing else but let
it be. 'Arrive slow, depart fast' should
now our motto be. Lit in lights upon
some high and mighty tower, inked on
children's shoulders as they're born.
-
It seems, these days, as if the only
sounds one hears are the sounds of
distant things - how that can be, I
guess, is because no one any longer
watches their present moment : always
something else, far-off and far away.
No comments:
Post a Comment