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  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: Neil Marsden


I arose from one of those half-sleeps,
Where the clock hands move like quicksand.
Unable to stay awake yet so far, far beyond sleep,
Yearning to be god knows where else,
Yet knowing that absolutely anywhere else would be just fine.

So with glued up eyes and a total lack of purpose,
I untangled myself from life and strode outside.
A fear of the dark didn't hold much dissuasion,
And neither would the cold night breeze'.
I had the calling, I could not, not go.

To my rear lay all of the reasons not to stay,
To my fore just please, please let lay the night.
No tricks in full vision, no telephones to call.
All my demons tucked warmly in their beds.
This time is mine, I am the night.

Walking quickly away from the glow that forms my shadow,
I adore the pitch and devour the silent silence.
No more fannying around with anyones misconceptions.
For here is the beautiful solitude of night.
You will not have me back until I am ready, do not call.

This place without the luminous paint from cities,
Is dark beyond the measure of black.
So my hurried footsteps slow to a victorious stroll.
Out of the bad-lights I have ventured,
Conquering the devils that would have me stay.

So, so easy black, my new compadre.
So, so different from the grey demands behind.
Only I will decide the pace of footstep,
With the help of my audible heart.
Helping me to measure time.

A crackling stick breaks to my left,
Three stunning and stunned bright cotton-tails,
Bounce off into the deeper ink.
Were they then in my territory,
Or have I always been in ignorance, in theirs.

Three wet toes from two unoticed puddles,
Dampen my ardour not one jot.
I am simply here for the ride.
Bring on the dancing girls,
I have a scorching thirst to quench.

A few miles onward yet a lightyear from whence I came,
I apparently turned a corner.
And around that apparent angle there you stood,
Nature at it's finest, the bambi of all Roe deer.
Distracted, in the middle of a cough, you missed me there.

Both frightened to death to move,
Your fear born of instinct, mine from front line.
So this is how being petrified must feel.
I would not be the one to deepen her intuition,
And so I wait in absolute silence.....for however long it takes.

Then where in the real world roads would swallow,
I was invincible upon the field.
Hidden by the cloak of night, direction irrelevant now.
Latitude and longtitude dictated only by the stars.
Intrusions that have light-years ago moved on.

I have reached my so-called destination,
And so I sit.
Surrounded and impounded on this moon-shine stage.
As inquisitive spiders ride speculaitve single strands of silk,
As blind as I, to places dictated only by the fingers-crossed, hand of fate.

And for those remaining hours I closed my eyelids,
Entering, uninvited to the holiest of lands.
And there found Utopia my own way,
away from the past and away from the future,
And away from the lonliest of hearts.

I know now full well that from these random journeys,
To places we don't normally go,
Through the thickness of just one door, despite the climate one's leaving,
The cover and the Mother of darkness,
Waits to replenish the soul.

Neil Marsden.

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

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