Some Strange Unheard Discussion
Notes scrawled across a digital film,
The illusion of permanence.
Moments captured in time, --
A duck swims into our softly longing view,
Its feet beating like the wings of a bird,
Brushing gently on midnight black waters.
Learned insects whirr, hoping to imbue
The deep elixir with many songs unheard,
Lain upon like many golden glowing wreaths.
Supple air whispers hard questions through strands,
Of tough gold, and branches of loving grass.
Silver sees through such knowing mangrove leaves,
Hoping not of being bound by hands,
With it brought the smell of volcanic glass,
Of the meddling forges deep underneath,
Of the frosty boneless chill of arctic air,
And of the making of ware and tear.
The low rumbling of tires on tar glides across my ears,
Guiding them towards the darkening horizon,
Speaking softly of travel.
A dark blue sky, littered with spots of light,
-
beckons,
Whilst night feeds the dim radiance of the moon’s flight
-
shells
crack underfoot,
And far below the Earth churns, out of sight,
As the precious footfall drifts across the rock-strewn bay,
Sliced in twain by the bubbling mud and midnight black
-
waters
crabs know so well.
The shells, pearlescent in the moonglow,
Mutter their pasts.
Thin sheets of peeling bark seem to listen
To the vast open wilds of discussion,
As rushes who glisten whisper, once more,
Their hurried tales of the world’s teeming ore.
Crisp frozen air snaps quickly underfoot.
The wandering tides, written on the sky,
Accompanied by strange distant birdcall,
Even as clouds bridge across the
-
aether,
Bring nectar of the nameless mortal gods
To some small witness of their own
-
nature.