Back and forward

It's one of those lost days where
	no-one comes, where the tide
	barrels in and swallows your
	feet, leaves you cold and
	undone -

Airs eddy round my body, bring
	arctic chill and promise
	of snow-quiet days, roaring
	fires and remembrance
	of death upon the hill.

My years on the mountain paths,
	of frozen fingers and toes
	bloody noses, bruises, make me ill,
	pull me down into sinking
	sand, regurgitate my soul
	like unwanted food.	

I hear the clock counting down
	towards unknown fear -
	the stink of charcoal bridges
	fills my face, air tastes bitter
	on my tongue

	and forward all I see is
	zero staring back:  stasis
	a circle drawn around lack.

I wonder what the place
	will be
	in that single moment when you know
	uniquely
	a point
	a pin in a map
	a rainbow
	a sunbeam

you won't be back tomorrow:
	gone for good

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