Between the Cloud and the Field
Between the cloud and field (Part 1.)
I woke this morning
and it was not clear to me
If I am the man
I am supposed to be
If I am even me
Wishing day would be night
As I walk here and there
Under the false light
Of a city laid bare on seven hills
Bereft of sight
A city that has lost the fight
Yet staggers on, punch drunk
Towards the light held in its museums,
Enlightened townhouses
And their antique spouses
The men smoke and huddle near
And talk of other men
Outside men’s pubs
A second cigarette in their ear
And I will not fall
Backwards
Into their chatter
Into the world of tiny matters
I have looked at death
And we both have blinked
Yet still I have lost the battle
Retired to a back room with a drink
A mind made up to overthink
Should I go home
With a lonely head
Bowed up the stairs, through the door
To find loneliness has fled?
No, I shall sit alone in a room
And think these thoughts of dread
Everything comes from nothing
And stops when you want it to begin
Everyone stops sometime
From the pull inside
The Struggle Within
And I will not shirk
I will not flinch
I will not be held back
Before I begin
I am one
Though there are many
And you will see us at the end
You will see us at the end
Until then?
Lay cellophane on the fields
As I cock my head to rest
While the city fires burn slowly
Emblazoned on my chest
And up above was set in stone
And the wind did its best
Untie your shoes, hold your breath
And wait patiently
For Death
Copyright © Greig Turnbull | Year Posted 2018
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