Into The Night

Wild wings of floating elegance
ride dark water’s slow goodbye
with songs of grave jelly fish
breaking the long time icy surface
brave abandoned ferries ruptured
expecting snow’s illumination.

Who are we that wait for darkness
in leaps and recoils,
unprepared at the sound
of one armed base players
amongst stiff remembrance reeds
in a coarse sea of thorns.

The eye heavy with night
colours what might be,
rising, yet falling heavily
where no vision ever walked,
counting the distance
from here to absolute continuity.

by Bengt O Björklund

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