Becoming Known

Find a place here
in the half light
of a morning where,
still damp with dew 
and enameled in ice,
there is calm curled
under trees and dreams
linger in the mist.
There will be a sense
that the morning
has made room for you.

Stop here. 
Feel the world pause
in this place of in-between,
before the real intrudes
and sends the day off
shackled to its clock.
Here, there is nothing
to be done

but to listen, let play
a dance of images 
to move across your mind,
to feel that gorgeous ache
for something 
that is waiting here
for you,
just out of reach,
yet within a breath
of becoming known.

Sadly, all too soon, 
crows will appear 
dragging their black ribbons
of unholy noise,
bringing with them,
the anesthesia of time.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2023

Poem

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Turner Avatar
November 10, 2023 at 3:14 PM
Another of your excellent writes Paul. unfortunately we only get so many moments like this in life. Most, unappreciated as we rush to chase a dollar. A pleasure to read your thoughts always. Be well:)
Willason Avatar
November 12, 2023 at 12:35 AM
So kind Daniel....thankyou. Finding that space is always a challenge...the world chatters away with distractions taking the mind up dead end streets. Take care...regards, Paul
Faure Avatar
November 10, 2023 at 5:59 AM
Enjoyed your work thank you for posting
Willason Avatar
November 12, 2023 at 12:24 AM
Thankyou Joyce, very much appreciate your feedback. Paul
Lawless Avatar
November 10, 2023 at 4:40 AM
'shackled to its clock". Love that line. When asked "what time is it" I would sometimes answer: "that will depend on which version of the space and time continuum you subscribe to"....A beautiful "ode to the pre-dawn peace"
Willason Avatar
November 12, 2023 at 12:22 AM
Thanks John for commenting...I shall refrain from asking you the time...though I am mighty pleased you spent some of it reading the poem. Indebted, regards Paul
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