by Steve Tanham
Unremarked, now, I was the way
Beneath which water flowed
Too deep for market’s harvest
Too deep for children’s naked feet
Too deep to be the path
❊
Unremarked, now, the truth
That ancient numbers wrought
In circle-cousins’ arc
Would span the deep
And bring the bridging way
❊
And did, reflecting here
That only dense and sheer resistance
Of those dark materials
Harvests now my mossy sleep
Beneath these wind-blown truths.
❊
Unremarked, now, enduring
My invisible point of being
Waits beneath the stone…
❊
©Copyright Stephen Tanham 2017
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
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Thank you…
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Reblogged this on Sue Vincent's Daily Echo.
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Terrific, Steven. Mysterious and haunting.
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Thank you, Michael
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Reblogged this on Stuart France.
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That is simply beautiful.
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Thank you, Jennie. Inspired by a wet walk in the Yorkshire Dales.
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You’re most welcome!
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