A long view

A dim lamp switched off,
its cord a pendulum
to midnight’s awakening.
Clockwise it ushered the nocturnal
from beyond a glass pane.

Tree outlines drew closer,
charcoaled the window
in an illusion of a spider’s web
cast far from its origins.
Perhaps it was a message;
a manual of silken threads
to guide the way onwards,
just follow the tug of the line.

In the far distance
constellations of candle stars
formed recognisable patterns,
then blinked out one by one,
seeming never to return,
but with certainty they did,
took their place beside the moon.

There, in the night’s forge
a sabre was moulded,
dissected time with memories;
a child sitting aslant in bed,
observing the silence
of the advent of the future,
an undercurrent fear inside.

Shadows rippled across covers,
from a lake of his will,
year after year they flowed
till the adult discovered morning
and its likeness.