The Gallery

The Gallery housed ideas

Empty frames

Blurred photos

And some degree of cleverness

Fiction circled

The deep of heart

Of darkness

And pretended

It wasn’t there

And there you were

Reaching from the surface

To the depths

And there was nothing

In this art

That would take you there

Nothing to show you

The transcendent centre

Of your self

Or the Light

Twinkling throughout  the heavens

Dancing upon your soul

sic incipit traegedia hominis moderni: here begins the tragedy of modern man

Here begins the fatal blow

As impact in the soul

The force dispelled the anchor

And now the ship cannot moor

Cannot but float aimlessly

The crew scans horizons

Engages in futile activity

Rest not a possibility

And so the pretense

That this is how it should be

But it is not

The ship now so lost

So far from the bay of sight

The bay of remembrance

The place that shelters

In an embrace of coastland

The line of your shoulders

Arms outstretched

Your body sunk into the deep

Becomes the anchor we cast away

Hope strikes the seabed

And is embedded in the soul

Harbour, home, high seas

Balance is restored