A Poets Endaemonism

A Poets Endaemonism A word An infatuation Idle in the onlookers eye More space than is bearable In which thoughts edge their brink With an abyssal climate Of lost heart, warmth and heat A silence that has no one left to cry Footsteps placed that gathered not one thing Only countenanced dust in everything That litter and litany of life Opened no doors Gave no chances Offered no hope Wait for tomorrows breaking day The avenues are filled And yet emptiness walks there constantly Mirage of bright sun given finally No beauty recognised No thought or voice imparted So returned at last to sanctuary Sanctuary Waiting for yesterday A bright release by sleepwalking Soft and keening down the thronging streets A clueless moment for seeking mystery And stalking the nape of another’s neck Slipping through a leafy dapple Forming in the note of a church bell Floated the dream By the interlacing of fingers And the traces of another time Could anything be renewed In the heart beat of light and the pulse of love He thought so very much Of her elixir mirage Gliding in sunbeams through the crowd She stepped from the breeze And finally Finally Met his eyes Waiting for today