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.