Wednesday, 20 April 2016

breathing underwater

and gravity has no pull when I'm flying above it all,

I'm running through walls, into familiar buildings
that swap form and function, location and purpose,
distances contract and expand forever,
and those I recognise instinctively
live with different faces

but awake, awake we can only fall, or drown
this world of gravity and oxygen,
same faces in same places and rules,
rules against improbability

so please write a story that's fantastic
so I can return to my dream and
we can swim by the moonlight without drowning
and fly without falling,

a story of improbable happening
of secrets of the heart and thoughts unfurled,
with new friends and new foes

I'll read it overlooking the crashing foam, 
from a mountain cliff
until I'm ready to dive into the twinkling blue waters
and surface somewhere new

The Earth Turns

This was partly inspired by photographs taken from space.

the earth turns towards the sun
edge of light rolling over mountains and seas
a wave of awakening,
early with anticipation,
or staggered late behind the dawn

spinning slowly,
warming then cooling,
one seasonal pole missing out each turn,
the other always in view
tilted towards our star,
slipping back over the horizon at the equinox,

turning until darkness comes creeping over the horizon
darkness seeping over the rooftops,
under doors, filling sleepy rooms,
light dimming revealing further stars,
and our one ivory satellite,
while dancing fires of green aurora crown the ends of the earth,

across the diameter,
halfway around the circumference
on the opposite longitude,
imperfect symmetry of twelve hours forward
and twelve hours behind

this marbled dot in the universe
this marvel of creation
our home