'We are reaching into the silence.
Are we the music, whilst the music plays?
Between the un-being and the being,
sounds a hollow rumbling of wings...
Am I here, or there, or elsewhere?'
(With My apologies to T.S. Eliot)
Thursday, 28 October 2010
To S, Forty-Four Years Friends.
Searching for signs to follow
I have groped by pits and snares,
My many wild words mirrored
Chambers of a cold eternity.
But look now-
Utterly unsummoned comes tripping along
My longest friend.
She gazes into my eyes
Finds in them no premonition of a tear,
But only kisses, smiles
And every easy laugh.