I want to see the dawn approach
and the dead
of the night, in all its mundane glory
and sheltered sideways repose,
disappear into the distance
from the point where twilight begins
in earnest and the ghosts of memory
are caught in perpetual agony,
screaming for forgiveness
and let loose once penance is served.
I want to stand, shoulders back,
not hunched over like a carved and varnished stick,
worn by clutched hand and frightened
sentiment, I want to greet the dawn
with purpose and smile,
knowing one day I will defy time by placing
myself between the world of light
and shadow
as I stand in disobedience and cheek
at being ahead of the game
and crossing the plane
between the islands of Time and Lines.
Ian D. Hall 2016