No going back.

Each step is treacle-bound, the effort of
Keeping open those eyes is almost
Greater than humanly feasible. Yet.
Still, forwards, forwards, and still
Forwards, there is no other route.
There is no other way, the roads
That used to be open are now shut,
And the turnings marked 'no entry'.
The white line never ceases, bending
Round corners and pausing. Yet.
Still forwards, the relentless hum of
The engine is mesmerising the driver.
And forwards, only forwards, there
Is no other way. Yet. Yet. Yet.

© 2ndwitch, 17/06/15

Standing at the gate.

And at the gate we pause, and look back to
See where we have been, what route the day 

Has taken; and then we look forward again,

To the darkening night, and we lift the latch

And open the gate, and walk through into the

Waning hours of the day, embraced by night.

The softening velvet, diamond studded and 

Vast, casts over our tired heads a blanket of

Eventide, with the sighing of the settling world

Singing the evening collect, and the final

Chords of the closing hymn.
Today was, and has been, and never shall be

Again, for now we glide along the oil-deep waters

Of the night, holding straight our course toward

The distant and beckoning dawn.
Soon it will be the turning of the year, and the

Long and moon-luminous hours of night

Will give way to the pastel new-birth

Of spring and then to blowsy summer,

Thirst-quenched and greening, bloated

With the sunshine and lazily listening to

The song of the sleeping hours, with 

Only a bronze-tinged hint of autumn’s 

Winds and frosts to come. Each day,

Each long day, is the year in miniature,

The spring, the summer-noon, the 

Lazy-afternoon, and the winter of night.
And so we all live one life, and many lives

All at the same time.

And time and again we pause at daylight’s gate.

©  2ndwitch, 18/12/14

Last will and testament

Who I am is not something that you can ever know
For the sky turns pink when the sun is setting
And the journey I travel is a strange one to you
For the sky turns dusk-deep-blue when the sun has set
And the places that I visit and ones that mean something to me
And the sky turns black as night casts its spell on dusk
As I turn and wave goodbye and walk out of the door
The stars are clinging to the velvet curtain before the dawn
And my footsteps tread along the old old road
As the sky wakens the cloud-girt morning at the opening of the day
And the road rolls over hill and dale
Burnt amber-grey in the midday sun
The bracken waves and fades into facsimile flames
And the void is all that is left.

© 2ndwitch © 28/11/14 (and the lack of all punctuation bar the last full stop is quite deliberate.)