A LOST SELF

One day he lost his self.

It was a shy, scared self,

and now it had disappeared,

like darkness does

when morning

makes its fires among us.

He sat and stared out

at the universe

which now was not heavy

and held him

in its never ending hands.

SOFT SOUNDS

This morning he was surprised

by the sound of the furnace

finding its life again in the cellar.

It was a soft sound,

like someone sighing

at the start of another task,

or a stream taking its easy way

among stones and snags.

Among the stars, also,

there must be that sort of sound,

he said to himself,

as the universe slows and speeds up

in its travels

with him and his family.

NOTHING

There was nothing

he needed to do.

The darkness was doing it all,

with its stars and its

silent footsteps

outside his house.

A whole day

was being brought to birth

without his help.

Wherever he looked,

a lamp seemed to be

switching on,

and signals were being sent,

but there was nothing

he needed to do.