Thursday, 14 July 2011

Coloured paths on a woodland sign say

there’s a way through the woods with stepping stones;

some blue ones going west into new darkness

or a silver trail ahead into old light

or brown ones lopping out towards my right.

Right - all is solid,

ahead – future history,

left - a big mystery.

Now, time to choose

and early this morning, I drove East

as a crimson sun caught my eyes;

rising up - a separation from land

- up, up and away, from god knows where.

One fission bomb, like clockwork,

ancient and total, emerging from dark.

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