Opening the whitewashed doors
To a dazzling sun
Was all I needed to
Bring the warmth
                 the energy
                      and the light back onto my face.

Backing away slowly
From the timeless inevitability
That came scarily soon.
The shadows rush by in whirls
Of memories
     Of expectations
            Of indecisive gestures.

Is there a rut to be stuck in -
Patterned by repeated kisses,
Rekindled passion
And an odd feeling of exteriority?

Who really knows?

Your-self is something evanescent,
Ethereal
And ever-changeable.
Overcome by enjoyment
Undermined by definition.

Lost in this wasteland
Of platonism and passion,
Sidney calls for realisation,
Is Stella just my call for an answer?
Which betrayal is worth committing?

The dreamlike doze
Of contentment and doubt
passes hazily:
A mixed perception of dark and light
Poised just beyond reach.

Silvery and colour co-ordinated;
soft, shiny, so deliberate.
A divine organisation
Of the mercantile.

Touch, taste and smell
Seem such futile efforts.
Time slips away;
Answers pass me by:
Toute que je vois et dans l'époque de l'avenir

Beyond all grasp.