Saturday, 12 July 2025

Lullaby

By Gub (Eden Holme, 14 July 2025)

And when they say 

Truth is a circle 

Arriving as it does 

at the precise 

Point of departure 


It’s a path 

That returns

And Enriches 

Us Again


A Rediscovered

Trail


That destination 

Unsought,

not manufactured 


Comets

Don’t lie


Their  heavens

Herald

flight of angels 


passengers 

In benevolent 

Ruses


And time 

space 

And life 


That endless 

Speculation


Of god, of man,

Of whose muse 

Is whose ?


Let me die here

In the quiet of a night 

Sky


Blossomed  by a heatwave in 

Mid-July

The earths heat 

Keeps the icy 

Weight 

Of that dark celestial 

Berg 

At bay


And beneath my feet

My dog lies

Tongue stilled 

On jaws of

Sleep

And the Sun 

Not yet born

In the heat 

Of a new day …


If peace had a sound 

It would be a quiet whisper 

Of love

The chant of all the lullabies 

Sung to dying babes

The crisp white linen

That falls around 

A still corpse,

The lifeless 

Demure

Body that

ghosts 

Gift

The living 


Something 

To pray for


As if awakening 

From death had some purpose

When the passage of life’s

Reward is the bequest 

Of matter 

Back to our maker 


Ashes to dust 

And dust to ashes 


Each ember a star

In the fire ….

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