Evening song

I asked this evening for a eulogy to grieve the failing day, a passage in the building clouds to mourn the loss of sun. I asked the moon to bear the pall and asked an eastern wind to carry a bouquet from somewhere distant where the light was young.

And as I wept beneath the growing shadows, candle wax annealed.

Somewhere in a constellation epitaphs are written, words more eloquent than these to reassure me that a sunrise wasn’t wasted. Somewhere in the song of nightingales and in the blossoms of an evening primrose subtle pangyrics speak for waking moments passed.

And as I loiter in a memory the blooms begin to close.

Forgotten days like motes of dust alight in bands of sun through picture windows, images of yesterdays in teardrops from the darker clouds, the leaves in fall that carpet streets in gold and amber flashing vivid in their death to praise its beauty.

And as I mourn the fading light I see the elegance in dusk eclipsing tears until it dawns on me that I’m the one whose dying.



Not every sunset is a funeral.
#mebourne #australia

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