Ceremonial doors achieve their grand bolted prominence, Rocking with the visitation of mountain currents massed At openings where electricity and concern practice their artificial trade, A starless shroud suspended where sentinel street lamps, Cast tidal islands among the grey expanse, travellers framed In an epitaph of shadow between searching points.
Letters to the dead ride on the night’s forgotten mail, Apparitions adrift amongst the hardening wind, And cloud banks where celestial bodies are masked With anonymity, the quiet slate houses asleep Tracing the dust pathways travelled by roses into autumn, Relics of memory presenting amber bordered lanes,
The terraces lean their aging shoulders against Welcome friends, whispering subtle histories, Of hallways opening their shafts of certainty, To the concrete precision of a leading road, Where determined and decided my dawn footsteps Find it, and the door settled into place behind me.
A settlement of light, anchored where the quickened water,
Pursues the debris of centuries to the first stone,
Knowing with omniscience the amber panes,
Swathed with abandonment against ragged shores,
Bury all certainties and uncertainties beneath glass,
Extinguished, a dormant vessel tremulous with dreams.
Masters of ancient fishing boats chart the sky,
An ebbing wind settling the craft to moor at a northern star,
And the catch is rich where a silver fleet,
Sways within reach of unbroken ether plains.
Imperious time will master the held silence of air, as each year,
The slopes redden with age, the leaves have accepted their course,
To decorate our feet, reflecting in lines of progress,
Patterns we have mapped across our own hands,
And cannot read, with palms curious and settled together,
We forget them, failing to foresee the coming winter.
I owe my gratitude to all the immense simplicities The mathematical improbability of breathing Beyond the first instance, when so eager for life, I arrived among the blossoming possibility before time, My infant consciousness leading into a first summer, Beyond the embryological dark.
Jewelled with significance, essences crystallise At the centre of experience, streets altering anew, Beside the changing face of the western world, I cannot mourn the coming winter, Death and life share the spirit of brothers, Along the many glimmering avenues.
My youth carries an opportunity, Passing with the momentum of moments Unforeseen, lost in indecision, a kiss will wait For no one, each body will choose one other, Our given time flows to one final point of return, Her movement in the silence of stone.
The years have held their course, Languid days I presented with your name, Pulse across walls who remember you, a fading filament Elevated and judgemental as on those close evenings, Light travelling to find its international casualties.
There have been shifts since our crossing of ideas led us to search the streets of my home town, For our childhood- The one letter you wrote Swept up in the bric-a-brac, the dust and ashes of old summers, And has someone come across it, wondering what became of us?
Trains intersecting in the industrial night, the quiet windows, Cars traversing familiar roads, comforting with a lack of direction, Dimmed headlights arrowed into nowhere, the stars Nameless and unconcerned, and somewhere at its heart Your own room of memories, on this day each year.