'At the Going Down of the Sun '(I.P.)

“As the stars that shall be bright
when we are dust, moving
in marches upon the heavenly plain,
as the stars that are starry in the time
of our darkness, to the end,
they remain.” L. Binyon (1869-1943)
‘For the Fallen’

I had come to the borders of sleep...
In my head, I walked to the window –
gazed at far-off worlds, with other suns,
other moons...other people, just like me;
if it’s true our universe is infinite
as some would believe.

I had come to the borders of sleep...
‘Sleep,’ they begged me...and if I did,
maybe to dream of a galaxy – aeons
away, and witness its demise; see it
implode, to become nothing more,
nor less, than a raindrop dispersing
in a woodland pond...

I had come to the borders of sleep,
and heard black-stockinged footsteps
padding through my mind...on down
that road to nowhere...another's hand
reached out for mine and in my head
we walked to the window...

noticed the streetlamps stutter
and so die; watched the morning star
tug, with all its shimmerings,
at nights such as this, when truth
heals our wounds...outshines the light
of who we thought we had to be.