It is calmer now, the night thick with feel;
From this other side of the river, I touch
Contentment – simple, perfect, sullen bliss,
Out of its shell for one fleeting moment,
Which stretches indefinitely onwards,
Indefinitely outwards. Not forward.
Never definite, and not relative.
From here, the haze of other people’s lives
Is one huge panorama, lost in time.
All the confusion blurs and is a drop.
Life decays and only this consciousness,
This sensory barrage, time lost in an eye,
Drags on, smooth and beautiful, like a still.
I do not see or hear, can only feel.
Back on the heavy side, the real side,
Of the river, life goes on like a train:
With direction, and with ends out of sight.
Here, our end is being. I am; you are.
The cynic on the bank of the urbane
Battles the romantic, quite opposite;
The bridges crumble, I cannot return.