in space, in time, a caught moment
between now and sometime later can be playful
yet the gaps lengthen and splice
into the inevitability of unfolding time
that ineluctable luxury and it’s conflation into one’s self
This being the first of the month and by its nature
much like many others I find myself in a fold of history,
with its little bookmarks liable to be set free when shaken
from the spine of ‘my’ book. Its close weave and glue, it’s conformity
posing the question, would you choose freedom if there were a choice?
Would you have the presence of mind whilst you were in free-fall
to attach yourself to something meaningful
to make a pact with a promise and hang there in space
waiting for clarity?
Would you, could you. do you exist in partial time,
a partner in grace?
Well do I? Will I ever fall to earth…