Nov 19, 2011

Poetry: Circadian

Up at the top of the hour of the night
Lost in the movement of a thousand lights
I walked through the sands of a thousand times
Lost in the winds of the infinite rhymes

Up at the peak of the mountain of gold
Lost in the beats of the heart, thousand fold
I walked through the snow of a thousand years
Lost in the winds of the infinite fears

Up at the hills of the pastures of old
Lost in the sounds of past battles foretold
I walked though the grass of a thousand hearts
Lost in the strokes of the infinite arts

Up at the edge of the end of the Earth
Lost in the knowledge of which I searched
I walked through the waters of a thousand deaths
Lost in the echoes of the infinite jest 

Up then at the edge of the end of the Earth
Lost in the knowledge of which I searched
I could not walk further through any more death
So I un-lost myself from the infinite jest

Up at the hills of the pastures of old
Un-lost in the sounds of past battles foretold
I walked back through the grass of those thousand hearts
And I marked them with kindness of only one art

Up again at the peak of the mountain of gold
Touching only the hearts of which I could hold
I walked past the snows of just a few years
And assuaged only a few of the infinite fears

Up at the top of the hour of the night
Now seeing clearly through a thousand lights
I washed the sands with water until they were still
And wrote in them rhymes of the gentlest wills

Up now at the roof of the house where I live
Un-lost in the life to which work I now give
I walk across shingles, a hundred or so
At home in the life I have now come to know

Posted to dVerse


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