For Mag244 - Passing Time,
Daylight drives The delightful linger Of last Night’s Dreams Down deserted streets.
The memories of lost days Are all that we have left, Distorted by the Edge of Now, As it pales Into the grey haze Of accreting history
Here, on the edge of Reality is a sense Of treading water, Of marking time Of trawling a parched, Bland land, Of War And peace, and silence And of Endings
They say this Is what it is:
Waiting for the delight Of coming Night We pine for the relief Of New Dreams- In saecula saeculorum