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Poem

For the past, the future was never apparent
its dormant projection lay in unformed
no thought ever counted it of concern

Time tripped and dawdled, discovering playful as children do
a continuous today absent of tomorrow
the truancy of sleep the night merely borrowed

Only questions to remember
more important than the befuddled them to answer
a nursery-rhyme of colour designed to wonder

Why,why, why didn’t care to reason
but considered the importance of knowing nothing
and still, and still be in covenant with everything

There was no path to tread, no spirit to seek
no doorway held fast by rusted hinge
no separation between exploring mind

All was held in a delicate of light
those angel hands of every child
so unembellished in their witness never defined

So it is as in the continuous today
until the futures chain to changeable edge
rattles the bars and locks us all away

Such a scarecrow death insinuates
and by contemptible depiction reiterates
damnations end of miracles

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