Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Flutter

[For C.]

The window is aflutter
with the day's newborn rays,
envoys from the heavens
thrust
at the immensity of our existence.

The room fills up
in unhurried moments,
like a schoolboy's watercolour.

The cosmos surges
in fractions of coffee cups and childhoods
as eternity pounds away like a machined heart.

We are surrounded by movement
but we,
we do not move.

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