Glint

The wash of the moon
dream-limned
from a million eyes
streamed in
and brushed
against my face.

Awakened, I asked,
What is it that
you came to visit?
The moon replied,
This is not a love song.
I’ve brought you this:

It’s the dust
God shook off
his great coat
after he had stopped
arguing with
his younger self.

It’s the particles
of worlds
that vanished
before time
had a face
recognisable.

It’s the numbers
of the universe
broken up
by the tremor
of a bird’s
beating wing.

It’s the grain
that floats
among the stars
come to rest
as the glint and grit
in your eyes.

These things
are the fading
and the thrum,
the shadow
and the light of life.
Listen, see, speak.
 

Warwick McFadyen