I look up through the ice
as if to paradise
to see the moving shape entranced
in the opening of a skater's waltz
and the welcome dance of death.
The ice gives way
I feel the shock
the break of day
the deadlock of plunge
of heart's distress.
And then I see the gash
from above
how dark it is,
how weak the sun
how temporary
like a spider's web
is beauty when
on the loom of despair
such tales are spun.
oh ray, you old mystic. this is just beautiful. images and words combining. and yet another feather in your bow.
or arrow. or arrow in your quiver. i forget the saying.
Appreciate that David. Thanks for being drawn in to my imagination, always a privilege.
Ray
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raypool
Sun 31st Jan 2016 20:49
I tried to comment Stu and nothing materialized - how weird is that? I wanted to say that I'm all a-quiver and all a-shiver and so pleased you liked it. I like a dose of the old mysticicity (?)