Outstanding poetry on this site.
Listen, listen, the slow light of solstice morning.
Time shuddering, time standing still.
A word wind muttering indistinct, its rhythms and intent
As steady as oars would be, as steady as oar strokes across a glassy sea.
Listen, listen. We were all in one band, a magnificent number.
Heading west ( always heading west into darkness there, into the mists).
One raised his voice – the song we all knew.
One of those songs whose words would be ridiculous, banal,
Without the tune. Whose chorus impossibly united the living and the lost.
The glass sea slid by. Time ran out.
Some said it was a hard coming of it that year, but it was not.
It was not. It was as easy as breathing.
The reasons, so reasonable. The logic, implacable.
The rhetoric, bombastic and irrefutable.
The watchmen were silent, uncommunicative.
Impossible it was to know the…
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