A specific instance of certainty…
Like motes of dust in my childlike eye
we float, weave, glide and fly –
in and out of a slanting sunlight beam.
There are no words that need be said,
for every moment was once an horizon;
one of innumerable divisions that advanced
day by day, hour by hour, and then passed by.
I spin to the tune of the cosmic breath,
glinting now and then in someone’s eye,
and for this moment, however long –
who can say – share this duet with you.
Hand in hand, heart in heart, step in step,
we spin our giddy pirouette –
never wanting this mortal bliss to die.
Hour by hour, blink by blink, sigh by sigh,
the thin line between earth and sky thickens,
and in the awful depths of a man’s despair
my tummy trembles, my heartbeat quickens.
Yet there is a calm, cool understanding,
that this horizon was always there –
while we danced with our eyes diverted.
While we pranced along our streams of life
with thoughts of our deaths averted,
the unstoppable sand trickled softly away
displacing itself both in time and space,
ready for the moment when, with a twist,
all time and space becomes inverted
by some magnificent intercessory hand.
Now that a veil of diaphanous and gaseous mist
rolls over this point of separation,
and the sky is lost in bright translucency,
all I ask, my beloved, whilst I change to sand,
is that you hold my cold and trembling hand
and in these final moments of preparation
believe with all your heart in our constancy…
…and in our certain perpetuation.
© Allen Ansell 2006, 2021