Alpha Step

A change to my usual sleeping position,

earth holding me close

like I’m something that it loves.

I feel a murmur through the hedgerow,

old gods thawing from the permafrost.

Only a matter of time

before an Empire falls

into the hands of an idiot

and there are more ways of saying things

than things worth saying;

only a matter of  love to steer the wind,

which batters us daily, this only life

that climbs beyond unfashionable

beginnings, leaving us leaving it,

breathless software, a bite taken out

of the grand old narrative,

while our ghosts refuel midair.

Deep time. Lovely time.

The human print will not survive.

I mean like, woo, there it was.