My consciousness moves through time
grasping quanta of possibility,
each a moment that will never come again.
Behind me futures that became pasts,
expectations that became memories
hopes that became disappointments.
Before me the labyrinth of the unknown,
no easy paths, the truth a string to follow
to where Ariadne waits.

I stood, head bowed,
drenched by rain and existential angst
That cold, dark Edinburgh night.
What am I? Why is rain?
Time passed, no answers came.

Soft steps, a woman appeared
from the dappled grey mist,
from vague shape into the yellow spotlight.
Long, glistening gown twirling
In some solitary tango.

She stopped, looked at me,
long, raven black hair
framing a pale alabaster face.
Her lips delicate, slightly parted,
The merest whisper of a smile.

Her eyes, the deepest brown,
transfixed my soul;
Spun me round and pulled me in,
An eternity passed, lost
In that infinite Corryvreckan.

The faint call struggled
through the dreich night.
She turned, her silhouette a pendant
Hanging from chains of light. …

It may be alive
Or perhaps it could be dead
Let us look and see

Mike Curtis

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