Song for ‘Fizzy’

For the passing of a friend.

When first we see the light of day,

It is a waking from more brilliant light:

From another world far more real.

And for a short while, to comfort us,

Is left a memory from whence we came.

Life begins in our mother’s arms,

And from the very first of her soft kisses

The vision fades as with a lost dream.

“Our birth is but a sleep, and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar.”

[William Wordsworth]

Ticks the clock, silently, remorselessly, unstoppable.

Harmonics spreading through endless forms:

Heartbeats thumping through lusty dreams,

Fingers tapping impatiently on a worktop,

Breath sucking and blowing on a winter window,

The count of a processor running hot.

The ripple of water cascading from a mountain stream.

Sweeps the hand, revolving, unendingly, round and round.

Shadows cast on an enamelled face.

Hands heaving on the heathen boot.

Fingers.

And in all this earthly manifest

Fizzy is now but a amorphous dream.