Friday, 23 January 2015


The clock beats among the rafters,
here time becomes a rhythm, here in silence
rhythm holds the point of timelessness;
as crows in silence out across the moor
on outspread wings float upwards on the wind,
as clouds along the distant skyline
move, transform, accepting sunlight, shadow
this moment, now
is caught without the abstract
forward look of hope,
the backward look of pain or warm nostalgia,
imagination, memory are drawn within
the orbit of a single consciousness - the shadow lengthening,
the golden sunlight deepening to bronze
no longer move towards
inexorable night, no longer move towards
unending darkness, vacancy
but in acceptance of the darkness
turn eternally within a rhythm of their own,
the rhythm of the beating clock
which holds the point of timelessness
and sanctity
and silence


  1. Stunning…I love the way this winds down…a bit like the clock itself. Beautfiful.

  2. Thanks so much, Val. I wrote it quite a few years ago now but I still like it.