Absolution

The clock on the wall still rests at five to six 
It is a permanent reminder 
An announcement 
Recollecting 
Then softly detecting 
The notion that it’s all an illusion 
Made for us to understand spacial fractures.

The fold about the eye changes with slow rolls 
It’s a rage in fair feisty fettered echoes 
Grabbing us from this place here 
Taking us to that place there 
On rich green corduroy
Not that we want to go 
For no one asked .

Someone find me some soft absolution 
Not much - just a draft- 
An open doorway 
Or a quick pull 
That frees the mind 
From the fortune of the tide 
That time allows: for it waits for no-one.

© adh 2015