15 October 2013

No Illusion




























Anxious energy fragmenting nervous moments - 
teasing hours from nanoseconds like they’re too 
weak to survive being un-arranged; making play 
without rancour or motive but most certainly not 
aimlessly, though in a way this focus consumes 
light with vengeful intent. Here today teeters on 
a plinth bearing the lamp whose shade is bright 
in sunlight mirrored against the darkest of night 

Why is there dismay and uneasiness in a dress 
rehearsal for some portentous event - heralded 
in the gravid grey sky banned from yesterday’s 
blue, burning suspense, shunned from the heat 
panting panoply seeking shade and relief, it’s a 
handkerchief wearing thief of checkered time 

There’s something ominous in the wind so weak 
it mimes stirring leaves, whisper of an end in the 
breach, or a beginning, or an unfathomable grey 
suspension about to preach the words we chose 
not to heed; the seconds collude to leap aside in 
a way leaving no illusion of ensuing peace 
©  28 September 2013, I. D. Carswell