For Cathy, poet
We walk a steep and slippery way,
Mixing senses in synesthesia's way,
It seem as if I am a chorus in a play.
We feel by measures hidden from the eye
Time borrowed, days wasted, time goes by,
I choose to walk a steep and scattered way..
Winter seeps me into sleep, as my soul flies,
To the gist of an art unborrowed from the eye;
I learn by going, where I have to go, inside.
Dark holds imagination in thrall, fear reverberates
Into the terror that, I know, can paralyse my eyes,
I wake to sleep and take my waking home with me...
Some seek with all their senses stripped away
Others watch as skies fade to a kipper-grey,
I love the ever-changing melding of night and day.
I seek to shake off this edifice of days
Time falls away, as the wise woman prays,
She dreams to make her waking slow...
Mingles prayers with softly falling snow...
.And at the closing of the day, we'll know.