15,914. AS IF LISTENING

 AS IF LISTENING

This world is a grumble-palace, and in

place of shadows and feints I often only

sees offences and hates. People mending

tear-lines in the ancient worlds they've

built. Calling out the Gods with differing

names; never understanding they're all

the same.

-

Now it's dull dawn again, and the pale

Wintry morning light is trying. Ice is on

the water, white, and the pale fusillade

of trees upon the other shore seems like

nothing so much as a phalanx of shadows

ready to roar.

-

This world is very quiet, with nary an

animal out to roam. Something leaves 

all these snow-tracks in the old Winter

snow, but nothing that I ever see.

-

For me, it's a wonder to still be here. By

parts, I should be dead : Heaven and or 

Hell have their call out for me. Have I

now eluded a form of capture, for which

my payment later will be more painful

still? I don't know Lord, but here I am,

and  -  one way or the other  -   I know 

you'll do what you will? As if listening,

my ears now perk up at every new sound.

(Yes, that's me, down here on the ground).