Subtle Dancer

“I could turn a blind eye,

watch the sundial wither by the moon

and waves of glass

pound against the sand

like massive fists

white, too weak to strike through.”


The Soul is a subtle dancer

Who stands, tiptoe, still in the light—

still, still so the dust swirls,

surrounds Her in a time lapse,

and the light streaming in like fire

pauses to gaze upon Her form:

body fixed in worship,

a World withheld…

There’s this grey-bearded man of the woods

with jade eyes, a rag of fleece,

a dial to turn it all back.

He plucks a song for Her,

killing the twilight just to see

those visions he once had

that She was real.


St Andrews