When first we see the light of day,

it is a waking from more brilliant light:

From another world far more real.

And for a short while, to comfort us,

Is left a memory from whence we came.

Life though, begins in our mother’s arms,

and from the very first of her soft kisses

the vision fades as with a lost dream.

----o----

“Our birth is but a sleep, and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar.”

[William Wordsworth]

----o----

Ticks the clock,

Silently,

Remorselessly,

Unstoppable.

Harmonics spreading through endless forms:

Heartbeats thumping through lusty dreams,

Fingers tapping impatiently on a worktop,

Breath sucking and blowing on a winter window,

The count of a processor running hot.

The ripple of water cascaded from a mountain stream.

Sweeps the hand,

Revolving,

Unendingly,

Round and round.

Shadows cast on an enamelled face.

Hands heaving on the heathen boot.

Fingers,

Crossed,

In a hope and prayer.

And in all this earthly manifest

Fizzy is now but an amorphous dream.

© Griffonner (c2000) 2026