The seventh day

(Thus the heavens and the earth were finished,
and all the host of them)

In lapis lazuli, a bauble, gift from me to me.
See here - it glistens; moisture fills a
part of it, and where the moisture lies
the stars are mirrored
(rippled murmurs, blunted).

But there it glows, and set within the general
haze spark many small intensities,
spark beacons piercing through the
drifting yellow cloud.

          There is a sick stillness,
and many silences (eight million in this
glowing speck alone that sprawls beside the
sluggish waters of the Thames);
the quiet is disturbing, but it
speaks of aims fulfilled.

( to the contents page.)