Janus

 

The god of doors

opened up a pathway

and waved me halfway.

A beginning some would say,

or merely a prelude

to that which was

to come to play.

 

The stage was set,

snow swept skies wept.

Ice slapped at the hands

of more powerful men,

ice cracked

and the beginning

was starting to end.

Sending their dogs

to find meat.

Safety unlocked and

barrels unloaded

on innocence.

 

And I walked bruised

into a new beginning.

The cracked footsteps

of January,

every ache

set into my bones

like they would break

if so much as a breeze

drifted through.

 

Looking back to see forwards

I see what tomorrow rewards

for living through yesterday.

I see the future in hazy mystery

whilst the past sits

somewhere behind me,

written by the victors,

corrupting the history.

 

And I sit,

this station seat

freezing beneath.

I see those eyes

that smile when they greet.

I see the man

with bags at his feet,

I see a safe retreat

from the circling thoughts

that are starting to pound

like a ferocious drumbeat.

Pearls in the concrete

 

Drifting somewhere

behind the sea,

my peaceful tranquillity

shatters as

a stray thought

swims towards me.

I have never been

so scared

of being lonely.

 

Not the loneliness

of my own company,

I'm happy to live in this mind

to which I’m strangely entwined.

This loneliness

is somewhere off

the side of the page,

Away from the mental parade

that plays in my head.

I've felt it since time

started its stopwatch

on my life.

 

No, what scares me more

is I'll wash up on shore,

and you won’t be there.

Your face won’t be the first sight

to greet tearful aquatic eyes.

Instead, I'll see

the vast emptiness of space

and its endless chasm

opening before me,

like the mouth of a galactic sea beast,

ready to devour me. 

 

Under these waves

I'm swimming gracefully,

but on the land

I'll wobble on unsteady feet,

and without your heart

I'll stumble aimlessly

searching for 

some pearls

in the concrete.

I will be lost at land,

setting sail

for far away oceans,

Somewhere over

the distant sands,

and my skin will

get dry and crack

under the blistering sun,

without your love

to keep me holding on.

Cycles in the station

 

As the calendar flips through

another day, week, month,

I watch the passing of time 

from the corner of my eye.

Sat where yesterday I faced,

the place I would today be.

Musical chairs in the station seats.

And the months become

memories

floating on the breeze

that blows in

every time someone takes

the automatic doorway

into this hall

filled with the soothing beats

of shuffling feet.

 

And autumn turns

to winter, spring,

into summer.

A year

under the cover

of the 

fluorescent dream.

 

No cycles in the station.

Shouts the security lady,

enjoying the power

that the yellow hi-vis grants.

As the kids jump from their

rides for the fourth time

in the last hour, eyes to the ground.

A stifled laugh in their throat.

Let out in a roar once

they exit onto the street.

In her mind she doesn’t mind

these young ones and their little stunts.

In truth she wishes she could replicate

their rebellious streak.

 

In the lovers corner

hearts drift aflutter

as two eyes are drawn closer

to each other, and in someone's heart

summer starts to set in.

Whilst in the seats down the end

winter seems to be clouding a man's brain.

Outside the spring air opens

and down comes a rain.

washing clean the air,

and I look back at my notepad

and put my autumnal

words down, to later share.