Sleep

By Gub, the Whimble, New Radnor 

October 2023

On a damp peat

Path  

Cresting the green rich brow and 

Flanked by heather and gorse,

You picked that

moment and 

Said don't look back 

And 

Don't look forward,  

Let time

Stand still

And so it did 

As it has done before 

And after, and will

Again

For those walks exist 

In a lateral form,

And linear time has 

No place there.

They are for us 

An eternal stepping

A place to dream

To touch a heaven

Of sleeping giants dressed

In green felt cassocks 

And watch miniature versions

Of ourselves trip 

Lightly forward,again,  

Down the sheep 

Stepped Path…

And view a world which has 

No object, no subject but itself and know that 

Time is a liar and well rounded lives 

Are little more than practiced 

Wakings in all the morrows 

Of the universe.

When we returned home

You understood all this, 

And answered that 

Call - as you should;

with  sleep.

And then there were none...

By Gub (Last week in Felmin, Nov 2023)

Where body and mind meet

There are no days or nights

To remind us of what has past

Of what is to become...

Only what is.

Clouds drift above and stars

Fill the sky

The mountains' peaks,

Are dials signalling; compass points

In a slow passing infinity.

And yet we do count

the years -

We rest in time - Jurassic; ages

Dawn.

For without man

There is no measure

Of the universe or it's might

Or god's sight -

Our weak, frail, humanity;

Like a blink, a water droplet

Sliding down the hourglass

From here to oblivion.

Meaning yields to meaning

Only because without causality

Everything is dust

Belief

Is disbelief

So the carp rises to the surface of the pond,

To experience the buoyancy of water in the air, and in that moment masters the acrobatic dominion of two elements.