Clickity-clack,
clickity-clack, clickity-clack…
The zeitgeist taps out its
code in passing against the railed track
Movements and moments contained
in sealed life-cars – headed to some - uncertain place
While the stilled
perspective is reflected in the old eyes of a mesmerized face
Today, is moving away; frame
by frame; wave – for it won’t be back.
Beams of moonlight stream
across a cold barren field
As the Northwind sweeps and caresses
the land’s contours with a burnishing feel -
Smoothing off the edges of expectation
and polishing the burrs of loss; the spirit must be reconciled.
And, in the far distance, the
train’s whistle fades away to an unknown exile -
So begin the crying prayer -
as this moment is about to self-conceal.
This face; this space; this
place – arranged for common grace
Respects must be given in folded
memories left inside a bronze vase
From first bath to the last
primrose path;
From school yard’s skins to
the scars of war – no more wrath
No room for fears,
no tears to fear; one last toast; three last cheers!
Spring is late in arriving this
year, as winter’s cold breath chills the garden’s temerity
Nevertheless, a brave little
purple crocus breaks with the calendar’s insincerity;
The Sun’s powers engage with
the deep coldness and the burgeoning ground relents severity,
While robins and nuthatches are
found busily rhyming the surfaces for a real meal
And, the long walk back
begins, the passing train’s whistle consoles that time and distance – will heal
Once each arrives to the
same point; to the same moment; to the same letting go release
Whether promises were held,
or failures crashed all around without pity nor surcease
Peace must be made without
consternation; without ramification – so to enter the unknown;
What is black will be light
and all secrets will be inscribed onto a rubbing stone
To emanate and join the
universal mind and so at once, everything
will be shown.
