Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Here and There

Late at night I hear music
drifting into my ears, from where
I do not know

It sounds like a door to a church, that has been left gently ajar
and from far within it's halls comes the strong but distant strain of a song

It's like that sound inside your head when you hold your breath too long
but I know I'm still breathing

It feels like the world is spinning, turning slowly and it's weight is dragging
against the moving wind, against the drifting life

It sounds like something that is scraping against something else

It's like a heave and a sigh and a "don't ask me now"
It's fingertips dragging across still waters

(The trains shift and settle, re-assure me that it's not them making that noise and that they hear it too, and yes we're all still here)

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