Light travels at such a speed
to us it seems static
and through the waters
a carp swims swiftly
but we catch the glimmer
of its scales
or the trout moving
through a stream
that summer in Kilkenny
ripples of sunlight
drifting across
the river surface
All things move
and our emotions too
movements of the heart
one towards another
and we call that
love
John Lyons
When lost for words
I reach for the poets
Charles Olson
or François Villon
luminous words
scrawled on paper
genius is almost always low tech
it comes in flashes
in aperçus
in fleeting moments of insight
All that has been
suddenly is : time
is the face of recognition
where are the loves
of yesteryear
the snowfields of yore ?
Each of us has
our own unique antiquity
some die in their bed while others
swing from hallowed gallows
Notre Dame
a place of visitation
a monument to belief
in the resurrected spirit
John Lyons
johnjosephlyons 