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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