bookshelf

i look over at them and wonder.
The paper veils painting sun and mountains
hiding deepest oceans of blue, near luminous
yet unfathomable quickly fading into mists and swirls
the truer form of what is known
only recognised as a distant memory...

they seem dead, but
between the lines realities merge,
past and present
life and death,
opening windows onto
winged, sunlit clarity
& deep saturating peace

not of them, but
through them i find you all
i hear your words to me,
i feel the rain again
strike my barren pastures
& once more
feel the gently smiling sun upon my face

...

the lightning-flash fades,
and again all is dark

i lie in my paper coffin
with eyes shut
as you live around me,
between the folds and turns
of what is enscribed on my shroud.

(c) final revision 2005