Seven Veils of Dust

And I woke up to the sound of rain again.
I sifted sand for dimes and buried treasure
walked across a railway trestle in a high breeze
but still the melancholy echo filled the sky.

Call me out from under hollowed stone
from caverns full of dust and silent cobwebs
call me into flare-filled space, auroral hiss
and crackle round the magnet poles of earth,

rattle of the rings on curtains pulling back
to show an empty stage where galaxies gavotted
back in slow-time. Seven veils of dust
have lifted, leaving glass illusions weaving,

spinning webs of existential blindness
silken strands of time and space to bind us.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside