Waking of a Child

the screams of silence
wander through my mind
shrings of a song
intended to be forgotten
to be silenced
unexplained
but to only that can decipher
such deviations of saneness
left alone
salted to cure
theirs is there own of its making
unpresented but towards.....
casting a shadow of a length that
cannot be measured.....
i was told if i was to do that
'to go out into the paddock'
plenty of room out there
so it is that
you are my periphery
my kept child.

i went and played in this paddock
and did not return
the view of the longing is not all unfortunate
only temporary to this life
'get over it mate'
what was it i was to get over?
'i have been visiting myself,
ya know'.

the paddock is a relatively flat plane
and attracts the equivalent thoughts
unless you visit the plane to the extent
it allows the recesses of your mind to open
to collapse
i fell to the earth
weak, looked for, could not find
recovered only to fall again
the wind blew softly
wistfully to my ears
to recognize a sound
but only see the plane receding with the crows
as they search for the next hor'dourve
lambs eyes
the plane recedes but can never be forgotten
waking to find myself
expecting, hoping for.....
having forgotten
nothing had been received
disappointment towards dissatisfaction
to be lost in a place of the forgetful
is something disturbing

munda heights july 1997