Byzantine Bindings

Sunday, 29 March 2015

and then it started

as a drip
in the cave of Merlin
walking down the high street
in my head
amid the hustle and bustle
of it all
a stillness
a silence that announced its presence
with a gentleness
a soothing balm
and grew to be a brook
a stream a river
a great sea
a cloud
gentle rain
falling on the misty mind moorland
filtering down the mossy downy

It started with a decision to choose life

It started when the horse
given a bigger field
became exhausted
hungry for
more than the food
of freedom
lost  and bedraggled
fell to its knees
in prayer
laid bare his neck
to that which he knew
was there in strange absence
present in an oblique way

It started a long time ago

It started with blood
smoke and cries of pain and
mighty loss
death throes passion
engulfing sanity
lost and alone on a hill above the action
staring grimly through
black wood
cracked wood
scorched earth
into the action
gripped with a madness

Cutting through
with keen cut sharpened sabre
irrevocably changed
better or worse
the question asked by
guardian of life's second half
why are there seasons?
the past is now gone
the future will take care of itself
now is present
all there is
the impossible present moment
that was and is and will be forever