When I Move Again

— From Under The Rubble

Oh yes, I recall,
Little sparkling beads
Spread atop the skies
And a little frame underneath, lightly hopping
Rhythmically on the tiles that lay,
To the beats that set the days of infancy forever anew.

Oh yes, I recall,
That shifted frame, towering over
Those tiles that lay, no hopping just passing,
No beats, just signs, signaling and signaling and signaling

The hopper soon crawled across the lane.
For the skies didn’t change,
But still the beads got lost,
Heavier and heavier, that silly towering frame
Just forgot to look up again.
There had set mist, and then blinding fog

Just when turmoil set, the slouching frame
Caught sight of worlds yonder
As a swift flew by, swiftly alright!
‘So light, so pure, so swift’, the frame thought.
Following which, over himself, a heap he felt.
That foggy world felt distinct,
The sparkle was felt again, somewhere it was,
though still out of sight.
Laying and laying I had waited long,
It was time,
When I move again

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