Preseli Meditations (Rock Signs)
Eye
Is a palindrome,
As is
Sees.
Voices distant
Speak in tongues
From cracks in rock
Split open by light.
—
Split open
By light
A heaven swing
Through star roads.
A cloud hymn
And the sing of insects.
—
The sing of insects
Deep in winter.
Sunlight clicks
Its fingers.
One door opens.
Another closes.
—
Another closes
Creeps seeps
Through the
Butter of time,
The honey of space.
Dressed in bones
They come
Rolling down
With news
From heaven.
—
From heaven
Fingers prise
The smallest chink.
An eye blinks
The mirror
Cracked becomes
A door.
Backwards the
Paths lead
Backwards to
The beginning.
—
Reblogged this on cross-ties.
Taa!
i enjoyed the journey of reading this poem, but “Butter of time,/The honey of space” is especially lovely.
Taa!
‘The butter of time’ caught my attention particularly as well. So true – something to be waded through. And love the cycle.
Many thanks!