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?