Posts Tagged ‘fireside’

I am tired but cannot sleep
Or will not readmit the silent night.

I kneel before the kindled fire
Humbly warmed before its roar.

Its kiss and crackle a comfort
On the round silent dark day.

A skim of dreams caught and lost,
A habitual melancholic stare.

The cats are curled and silent,
Heads held thus, angled, ears ready.

They slip, too, bolsters between worlds,
Watching new ghosts stumbling
Unacquainted with their freedom.

Long held time caught fire
And vanishing up in smoke:
Each a metaphor for all.

A cup of words swilled and tasted,
A meal meagre but stilling echoes.

Eyes will close and close again:
The bright dream fields of morning.

And those I had forgotten,
Still waiting, one door swinging shut,
One door, opening out soundlessly.

Read Full Post »

I have left a soft, small light
So as not to wake the ones I love.
Rising in the long and cold
Of frosts and dark morning..

Gone to kindle a new hearth,
To catch with tinder
The last left light,
To warm the space distant as holy.
A bloom, a bud pushed through,
A green something from soily ground.

I have left a soft small light,
Like all those others who have,
In their tumbling watching heavens,
So as to never lose place,
So as to one day, quietly slip back home,
Or at least, at very least, know for once
From whence we, longing, drifted,
Wandered, a dream untrenched,
Not dimmed by mornings.

Read Full Post »

Night Watch

We shall learn to suffer the long dark,
Learn to melt with the short darkness.
As clouds cover the stars,
As the fire settles back
And the cats, relaxed, alert
Become still
( now it is their world).

The hum of voices, insistent, distracting, withdraws,
An undertow sucked into silence
(The spaces between things).

Roaming large and small:
The solid fears and frights,
Noises with eyes,
Snarl of unknowingness.
(Keep still.)

It is the edges that melt away
The words no longer mine.
The certainties belong to naive daylight
Not to this red tongue of dark beauty
Lapping synapses with galactic spin.

Enough to be breathing in and out
Enough to be watchful as sleepers sleep
Enough to shift weight slightly as the heavens wheel
Enough to know little, if nothing at all,
To rest upon the pulse and flow of veins
The warmth of cell and muscle
The opium castles of consciousness
(emperor’s clothes on a ghost of habit).

Keep dark the hours of darkness
Keep silence in the silent wanderings
The silent wings, the silent edges,
As silence is the only way,
The one sure way,
To find what becomes the centre.


Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: