London Poem: Day 270

14 May

It’s still early,
The sun, just peeking
Out of the clouds,
Low and rising fast,
The world is on fire,
Here and there.
Grey and low slung,
The horizon glows,
While the rest clings
On to what it was,
Fearful of what it will
Inevitably come:
Dark and unsure.
But, such is the
Nature of known
Determinism; one thing
Gives way, so that
Another may be –
It is a rolling,
Tumultuous ride, being
And switching until it’s
Out turn to set.

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In flux

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