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"I should explain the 'Fizzy' was one of a group of friends I made on an online forum - not longer on the Web.  He died at a pretty young age and I was inspired to write this in his memory at the time of his passing." - Allen Ansell




When first we see the light of day,
It is a waking from more brilliant light:
From another world far more real.
And for a short while, to comfort us,
Is left a memory from whence we came.
Life begins in our mother’s arms,
And from the very first of her soft kisses
The vision fades as with a lost dream.

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“Our birth is but a sleep, and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar.” [William Wordsworth]
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Ticks the clock, silently, remorselessly, unstoppable.
Harmonics spreading through endless forms:
Heartbeats thumping through lusty dreams,
Fingers tapping impatiently on a worktop,
Breath sucking and blowing on a winter window,
The count of a processor running hot.
The ripple of water cascading from a mountain stream.
Sweeps the hand, revolving, unendingly, round and round.
Shadows cast on an enamelled face.
Hands heaving on the heathen boot.
Fingers.
And in all this earthly manifest
Fizzy is now but a amorphous dream.



© Allen Ansell 2023