Saturday, 27 September 2014

two walkers and a sleepless poet bear witness to the morning

they have climbed
Arthur's seat for the moment
the sun will peek
over the horizon as we
turn, and turn, forever
rolling around a universal clock
face, so slowly we don't notice,
so quickly we would like to stop,
for the moment, take the photo,
flash an image to the memory,
press pause, rewind, and play
the moment over in our mind,
when we walked, when we talked,
when we took our time, were not
fools of time or fortune,
hung as if in the middle of the air
and we were there - not coming
and not going, we were there,
and we bore witness to the sun,
to the turning of the earth.
we were there.

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