Instrumental

Sun rising
Gone in a morning
Noon’s short-shadow light

Mid-day waning

Whispers in the afternoon

Till twilight comes

The heart’s hollow place
Emptiness in the shape of a sound
Makes an instrument

Fingers play it
Punctuate it
Lips sing it into words

In time,
Silence falls
Dust corrodes to dust

Emptiness takes its place
All songs dry and dead
In gathered silence

Time hollows out
The chambers
Of tomorrow’s heart

Other songs are shaped
From buried shards
And a new sun rising

© BH, 2017

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This is a boiled poem… boiled since 2013 to be exact. Way back it contained the African sun and Nelson Mandela. Somehow I just couldn’t get it to fit together.

Slowly it rendered down over three or so years to this. It may have been a song once, now it is instrumental.