Dear Heart, Too Late

There is a clarity of thought at 3am,
clarity of thought that won’t exist
when day begins – an ease of finding
rhythms in the words that tease a tender
flow of more, words that grow from pensive
thoughts which opened this prosaic door,
this charismatic magic music score of rhythmic
song persisting, concentric echoes all insisting
you depart along this path before the dawn
begins again the process of awakening.

I’ve travelled down this path before in
times when rhyme was subtle glue that
kept you true to hints of visionary grace,
lead you to a place beyond the reach
of mind, rested you and left a peace as
subtle as a gentle hint of death. And there
I died. Today I’ll run the race with vigour
born of desperate need to beat the glow
of light that springs – has sprung! Dear heart,
too late.
© I.D. Carswell 2006