Totality in flux.

As you lay there,
peaceful,
I saw you smile;
the vestigial features
of your sorrow
become dust under
the weight of your happiness.

A wandering insomniac
has been put to bed
and sleeps
like an age –

in waiting of new growth.

No more dumbing down,
you lift your arms
like mountains;
swing your legs like hillocks,
with all the power of day:

you’re no longer
living vicariously
through bleached feelings.

Your head is risen
like mountain dough
necking through clouds;
you survey,
and you realise
that you are the essence
of what is:

a towering giant
of average height
and sound proportion –
creation
breathing creation;

colour erupting
in violent death;
the essence of the universe
experiencing itself;
an endless work in progress –

even in death do we dance
(along well-trod roads,
imprinted with myriad footsteps,
to the beat of the ages).