London Poem: Day 139

3 January

Just let go,
We can find ourselves
Dying in the quiet light
Before the sun tells us no.
It is by night
That the world closes in,
Arresting possibility,
To conceal the shape
Of our wishful delight.
The stars,
Near-burning, but removed,
Cause the world to appear
Impossible and far.
Our night sleeps frozen;
One shudder for you
And another for me,
Our rest is hindered by
What we feel is destined:
That life will bend for us,
To collect happiness in bunches
In the rapid transit to dust.

Advertisements

Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s