Tuesday, 24 March 2009
From a small point of view.
It is around us, deep and dark, the potential
and we are such unseen that it is hard to know
how far it is possible to go. We are incapable,
in the grip of muscle that stretches to others’ will.
Sometimes it is too much scented space, too far
to travel; temptation for our inability to influence
but put us elsewhere and we are lost entirely.
We change colour, but this is not distraction
only function and circumstance. We are made up
of your in-between, and you do not see us.
We have no voice. We are palpable time
because we count it, document and expect for change.
We do not know what makes us look beyond
but huddle together in this deep and dark
changing colours, changing shape, fitting in.
Waiting for a trick of the light, or perhaps
of time, to loose us.