leaving behind

the evidence of decay

choking on lucre’s

sickening green algae

the quiet shells of albino sacrifice

pale and sharp, drowning

in rumourous black mud

the clock runs short,

the seconds’ fall,

let reason stay the hands

the final note,

not yet played

© Christopher Raine


Shadows and Dust


We are all in tatters

pieces of sunlight

torn from The Night Watch

oil and canvas rags

light and shadow

playing like children

brilliant and glorious

like the holy vision

of a Gustave Doré plate

a quintessence of dust

in the pillar of creation

I see Gabriel’s horn,

held in the trembling

hands of an angel

haunting the wisdom

of a hundred seconds’ denial

shifting ears growing numb

to the waves of endless droning

voices receding like the tide