Monday, August 07, 2006

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

It's been awhile, but I think it's time to write again.

Can you hear the click-clicking of keys; a desperate and last minute
attempt at garnering your attention. Well hear this: time is up.
My train has come and gone, and there you stand on the platform
as I wave my white hankerchief in your general direction.
Can you make out my shape amoungst the masses? The silent screams
from my parted lips... But you can't see them now anyway.

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You're a star over these grey skies and it's the wrong time of day.
Keep shining and we'll all wait for nightfall.
*
You're a stranger in your own home: empty mirrors, quiet phone
Close your eyes and listen for the sound of footsteps(only silence)
*
Keep still and keep quiet. They're watching and we're waiting for
the End.
*
We're casual observers at this weeks genocide(pass the popcorn)
Why can't we feel through screens and typeface?


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to find words fit for such a figure
(with lines drawn slight as breath)
would be a gift.
she is the shape and colour of sound,
with heaven as her conductor.
an immortal image amongst the art of man.
but without soul she is only an icon,
so bare witness to her living spirit.
make a home in her arms,
and a life of her moments (and failures.)
till the end of time,
she will be my symphony - my end.

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"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened..."


-T.S. Elliot

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goondight.. :)

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