Horizon by Bridie Breen
Is there more, beyond start of day
Or end of night, between unravelling of thoughts
And half-baked ideas, existing in half-light?
Is there more, hovering out of reach
While minutes stretch into hours, days into years
Time dipped in brilliance of fresh surprise
Or clouded grey, streaked by tears?
Is there more that must be said
Or left unsaid, for reason to stay unruffled?
Words living untongued at freedom’s edge can
Drip constant as a bird in free flight,
Determined in its destination.
Instinctual to what remains right
Yet, much speech is best left undawned.
Is there more, beyond physicality
Where passion soars to transcend time itself
An enrapture, always beyond comprehension
Akin to a prayer, portal to soul
A shelter to hold nature pure,
Captured in sweet surrender
Repeated over and over, energised at core
Lit from within like the sun?
All known, unspoken, silent in its continuity
Ever present as sunrise is to sunset
Every time emerging to birth newness
In life and death. Yet, is there more
Just beyond the horizon?