Now in the still point
         in the soft-petalled silence
the slow rain
         falling falling
a blessing
         on the parched land
now in the absence
         that feeling
of abandonment
         now in the pointed stillness
leaves standing up
         to the cool wind
acceptance with
         a shrug of the shoulders
now in this otherworldly
in which words are
         of importance
are necessary
         in the binding
of body to soul
         now amidst the engagement
of stars and fairweather
a bleak sense of history
         plagues me
a road too often travelled
         a cycle
a syndrome
         a vortex
an unwarranted

John Lyons

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