Blue sky broken
by sweep of thistle-down,
smattering of seeds,
windblown, restless.
Every blink a freeze-frame,
tethering befores and afters.
An endless rope-ladder
flung into the unknown.

Cling to the belief
of safety in numbers,
like shoaling fish or
flocking birds.
Keep each other in sight,
cherish that tenuous grasp
amidst the tidal drift
of everything unnamed.

Infinity's a hard thing to bear –
traversing its blind expanse,
no point to the horizon
without camel or compass.
The merciless stretch of too many
summits, too much to bury.
No guarantee
a soul won't spill
instead of float.

From 'The Better Part of Some Time', (Wet Ink Books, 2022).

Originally Published in Existere: Journal of Arts & Literature, (Vol. 33.1), (Nov., 2013).