Time

The time of the hour
is changing
as the wind swings direction
and calls my name
once more

The time of the hour
moves on
ever swiftly
no pause
for breathe
or contemplation
of more

The time of the hour
is dark before dawn
crushed by defeat
and weight of anguish
calling your name
in twisted moonlight sweat,
left without shadow
or incident
hands holding more
than before

The time of the hour
has a different name
shouting
to the moon
swathed in darkness
bathed
in breathlessness
panting
clutching
reaching
for the promise
that hangs in the wind.

Again

The plateglass spinning
in the rain
catches the water
and light
sending reflections
shooting across
the consciousness
buried beneath
the tree by the ocean
years ago.

Glass glistening
in darkness
lit only by memory
and a sense
of possibility
lingering
beneath reflection
and the sky
that covers my head
with a darkness
that closes my eyes
and helps me
to breathe.

Fragile touch
gentle moment
filled with expectation
and burden of pain.
Peace
by the fire,
a sanctuary
created
to lose you
and find you.
Again.