By Martin Hanley
Impossible perfection now lying still. Swept aside beneath grey July skies on tiny waves of concrete. Black and amber set apart as if to scream, see me here. Look at me ; for I am your past present and future.
Now still and seemingly insignificant you labored for all. Once she was your master but in that fall; your mistress. As one minus nine is eight, your mind resides in Nature still. Little wings that beat an impossible tune; silenced in a sudden summer down pour.
A minuscule profile describing a suburban driveway and oh so much more. If only frozen wings could speak what dreams they’d tell. What worlds would speak of a light that glowed. But where was your Queen when you silently fell? Did She surrender and give in without missing a beat too.
Seeing you cast in profile in this cold physical channel. A reminder and I stopped as everything stood still. Storming my senses your golden wisdom found a home beneath a low threatening sky. Your diminutive frame, the wisest of souls; opened a way. To see beneath the surface, to be on the inside yet knowingly look out. And in the darkness of that single moment you shone for a thousand years.
Copyright © Martin Hanley 7/4/2014