flat.fish.flesh

Echoes of those distant paths,
which wish has washed away,
have cast their final sunset nets
and caught one word today.

When all the fanfare falters
and drum’s begun to slow,
the heady light keeps falling.
It dims and turns to go.

Forget about today’s tendrils
as you salute the sun.
Lift up your head. Throw back your hair.
Ignore the stuff undone.

The quality of life is such.
One day is but a mark
smudged out on every gate and tree
as light descends to dark.

Then run a tongue round word again.
Impress its pressing din.
Dip deep into the old worn world
its contents to take in.

And practice well the noise to bark
as time to voice it grows.
Raise up a song to utterance.
Why then you can let go.