Lu

Another’s sunset brought this thought
Of you; cast Chinese nets and found distances
Of time and form, no substance caught,
Nor sorrow in the memories wrought page;
A series of burning effigies
Adrift upon the stage.

And what of sunsets? Remembering
The first one in the hill village, opium
Smoke winding through clouds, singing
The dawn our bright refrains
Unravelling the conundrum
Memory retains.

I think of chance, Aussie and Scot
Upon the beach under an Indian sun,
Fireworks in the jungle, a fraught
Moment in a war zone while we,
Lost in wonder, watched the trails run
Sparkling in a starry sea.

I think of memories, some not yet born,
Of crazed designs and innocence,
Of disregarded maps and torn
Timetables, and always something
More chaotic about to commence
And of time’s sundering.

But these are sunset thoughts and you,
Like me, would choose to gaze
Across waters, a western view
Towards Tir na n-Og, an ocean vast
As history, endless with days,
Upon which, rudderless, we’re cast.

Or maybe it’s subjective, a strand
Of that weave which brought the present tense,
An old song of echoes, unplanned
Moments vague and bright
Until journeys commence
And dreams take flight.