Stephen Robertson

Slanting Lines


High up above, at the edges of the air

and the beginning of space

the sky is dark, but the raging fire

of the sun marks passing time.

Far down below, the earth

is mostly water.

From across the waters

blow the evanescent airs

moistening the many-coloured earths.

In forests and in open spaces

there are times

when the imagination fires.

Pots are thrown and fired,

crops are watered.

Seasons and years are counted and timed.

Philosophies are aired,

temple columns spaced,

lightning rods earthed.

On the dark side of the earth,

in the light of a fire,

and faint starlight from space

reflected in inky water,

the cool night air

slows down time.

Now is the time

to lie on the earth,

smell the air,

feel the warmth of the fire,

listen to the lapping of the water,

and gaze into space.

We have the space

and the time

to cross the waters,

explore the earth,

and send signal fires

blazing into the air.

Our space is the earth,

time lives in fire,

leaving us the water and the air.