Irwin Garden

We came here in the bone-still dead of night from every distant fathom of the spinning planet

We came here empty-handed gasping through the vortex of the stars, knowing no one, knowing nothing

We came here stepping gingerly off the train, as off a cliff, to that lonely platform singing in the rain

We had been here all along, high up framed by the heavens on the mountainsides

Wandering, pathless, the unknown womb of the forest, in the heady buzzing evening

Poised, ready to leap, amongst the boulders of the quarry, golden in the rising sun

Asleep and awash in sunny dreams in our little houses nesting warm and quiet in the valley

We were packing, ready to leave, suitcase lying open, to strive forth towards the blue sky of the world beyond

We were newly-arrived, smiling sheepishly, blinking a little, finding our way through bright and unfamiliar spaces

We had never moved at all, and never intended to, and were happy sat in the same old chair by the same old fire

We were coming home again, after long years on strange roads, tired, dewy-eyed, to step through welcome doors

And we were cast adrift again on unseen currents carrying thought and light to the furthest reaches of time

We saw everything change and break apart and form again in glorious new forms around us

We saw nothing change at all

By Ralph W.