The Common Day

There is a commonness
To the day - I have travelled
Slowly to the quiet centre, the
Eye of the riding storm - here
I have come for
Respite and sleeping, to be
Dumb to all but
My pages and voices, dumb
To all but my words carved
Hurting  in my heart - this
Place abides and is
A lonely place welcome ;
And sad - it is
Getting used to its precincts,
Used to its friendly eyes - I can
Stay here, it says, for a
Time before the
Hurl of the storm and its
Raging outside
Claims me for the next
Limit experience, the
Stretching edge. Do  I
Fear it now, that place
I know well - perhaps
My tools will serve me
Then, that next excursion?
Here the walls are white and
Easy - my lying is
Welcome and long - the
Common day of life, the
Quiet life in a day this
Turning self as hub - quietly,
Slowly fey.

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