Monday, 8 May 2017

the all night dawn, 8/5/17

the all night dawn.... .... 

.... it wasn't the all night dawn that kept our hero awake, though awake he was after a meagre ration of hours afforded his increasingly bloodshot gaze....

.... with its chorus of singing a marathon of ringing from the wee early hours through all the other equally early hours of the morning on end......... to the strains and the sounds from all corners of the world International Dawn Chorus Day hove into view, or more likely chimed into earshot from our hero's radio he stretched out an arm to turn on having all but abandoned all hopes of sleep..... 

.... and there it was, not the usual ranting and raving and misery-fest of a world buckling under the weight of its own stupidity but the lulling virtues of birds sounding-off as dawn broke all over the world at abnormally different times to the hands on our hero's clock but at the right time to them..... dawn........ 

.... as it broke and kept on breaking over and over and over extruding perpetual motion from every syrinx and pore something for which miles, kilometres, borders, language, culture, religion, politics means nothing, irrelevants merely beaten into submission in efforts to claim one life is better than another....... all living in different times and yet at the same time...... 

.... but who's time is it anyway, mine or yours?.... 

.... our hero wonders whether such ponders are healthy before breakfast..... it might be minutes or hours or even whole days away from the sound of that bird happening now, two 'nows'..... the now on its clock and the now on our hero's... is this where they meet glaringly revealing how far they are apart... separate...... the sound of separation, asynchronous synchrony...... 

the all night dawn didn't keep our hero awake, it was the far from dawn-chorusly clatter in his head.....

© robert greig 2017

1 comment:

Martin Kloess said...

Sounds like sleep has no open arms