Poem: The World

Wrapped snugly in its holed coat of space and time,

the world puts up the hood and runs away,

never showing its face and always one step ahead,

casting us off like loose change as it goes.

But the world doesn’t really move anywhere;

it’s like a balloon on a string

held by a child, or a boomerang.

I realised this much too late

and lunged for the world

as if trying to grab the trailing chain

of a dream, but by then it was gone.


(from The God in the Box, Agàpe Publications, 2003)

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