NIGHT WALKING

Night Walking

Night walking out in open country

Under the unseen ceiling

Of a barrel-vaulted sky.

Dark, without a moon or stars,

As if the gods of night had thrown

A blanket over evening and earth,

Sealing off their silent sleep

From the moans of mewling mortals.

It has created, on this one night,

A curious combination of the beatific and banal;

Something not anticipated, and yet

Curiously fulfilling latent expectations.

I cannot see my feet, but only hear my footsteps:

 

(One

two, three,

four, five, six).

 

As the infinity of darkness draws me onwards

Towards the epicentre of this unconscious world

I gasp at the enormity of where

The black-hole irresistibility enfolds me.

How many more steps till I’m absorbed?

 

(One

two, three,

four, five, six?)

 

Somewhere in the distance

I seem to hear a voice that asks me who I am

And what presumptions bring me here.

I confess, out loud, that I don’t know the answer.

In fact, I have my doubts if anyone

Knew this happened in the night

And, with brutal honesty, even if they did

I doubt if anyone would care.

Turning, I begin to ask myself

If I ever can return

From these realms of quaint half-dreams

To where once-welcome morning

Calls me once again.

A passing hunting owl says not.