Wednesday, 23 December 2020

Pure Invention
















Where we live
is pure invention,
the cage in which we pace,
where we dwell, creatures of habit.

Uniqueness 
passes over us
in studied slow-motion, 
forever elusive.

Sometimes 
the eye sees
beneath our self-importance,
through its mesmerising illusion.

Shambling insignificance,
a poor relation, an unwelcome guest,
loiters, a casual reminder of how so little
is of any moment…

…and we are embers
of the pin-prick stars:
dancing sparks fading
into night.
© BH, 2020

A little nod to the human condition, this time of all times. A kind of ‘this too must pass’ moment. After all, good or bad, things draw to a close, this pandemonic, pandemic year; the divided-up moments of the year to come; the year after that, and so on.

Take heart, though, from the dancing, not the fading. It’s the best of what we do.

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