We came in our thousands, young and old,
rich and poor, the quiet, the odd and the
lonely misfit, each suddenly a warrior in a
crowd that didn't care for how we looked or
dressed or wore our hair, but revelled in the
dread noise and anthem rage of yesterday.
For one glorious day, that wore seasons
in its hours — from rain to burning sunshine —
we forgot our years and leapt and screamed and
pumped the air, a whirling, swaying, howling
throng of dervishes, hoping childishly our time
might never end, that this day would last forever.
And then, as evening fell and pyres were lit,
we prayed aloud that we might spend just
one more moment in the awesome presence
of our gods, axes borne aloft as artificial suns
blazed and blinded, and we grew misty-eyed in
this reliving of our glory days in beer and song.
9th March 2015
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Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...