Silent now, this moment’s pause, bathed in ochre’s tinge of red,
revealing histories’ flaxen stitch, stretched through pin pricks long since bled.
Day lies still around me, ‘cross rustic echoes this past enfolds,
suspends my eye along the line where every memory’s story is told.
I strain to squint the long line down, a temporal horizon revealed,
yet danced in distorted ecstatic shapes, reducing truth so sought, concealed…
Exposing the gaps of life amongst lives…
Of image, of thought, of stories told…
Sketching loose, unveiling shadows,
Stretched between these temporal poles.
The past is vaguely visible…
So turn I from the yesterdays, grasping light in shadows long,
steel my courage, step and stride, so move along the path I’m on.
Histories’ echoes flit by, sparrows on the vented dusk,
call to me on whispered wings, “tomorrow waits within your trust”.
Summer’s acrid dusty road gives rise to verdant scent of…
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