The boundary never to be crossed

 

 

The boundary, never to be crossed,
goes always with me: the walk away
cannot be done, nor a thought be lost,
the face ahead, eyes never looking back.
It is unvoiced, the mood upon the day,
inflecting shades or plains of light; unslack

the nerves that run through time, deliver pain
or some emotion far below the sense
of this long sunlit day. Reflections drain
from buildings’ lines: windows far away
are shuttered up or empty out: immense
and monumental cloudbanks end the day,

and still the boundary remains— the line
run out through core of self and time and all
that is. Here, language stands, and words assign
the measure, make the form. Beyond, mute time
bears motion at its brim; unknowns appal,
hang unsupported in the mind: days rhyme.

 

 

Changes, Days, Lives: Titles and first lines