Mark Heathcote (22/03/66 / Manchester)
What is the size of a shadow?
Projecting, quadrupling its sinister size.
At close quarters who knows?
Could be likewise a sea-monster!
Said an old; warty-sage in prose.
Why it’s a serpent, something to conjure-
Up and swallow you down whole!
Cogent! —under your hammocks bed,
Worm like! Said a disparaging vole!
—So what’s to be done?
For an independent; measurement then...
Well, use what you have of your noggin,
Little child—then, take a long-
Introspective, look inside, and then-
Try and decide.
Just as sleep, closes our eyes.
What’s this voids awesomeness,
Nothing..? What’s random about, emptiness?
This vacuums inner movement in space?
In full, perceptiveness,
Prescribed to our inner sleeping eyes?
Ever wakeful is it or just a dream scape?
No bigger or smaller than a shadow.
Appearing and disappearing…
Why do your eyes remind me of the universe?
Having just; exploded with an outer-ring
And a heart still filled, with stunning blackness.
What is this opaque whiteness?
Invisible indivisible glue that surrounds us...
Who is it in those shadows, watchful of me and you!
Comments about this poem (Shadows by Mark Heathcote )
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