Cars in the street:


Each of us

In steel and silence.


Rouse the soul

Which sleeps.


Collect the shards

The day breaks into




Gather to you

The wasted moments


Darkened words


Pointless loathing






So we gave you a day.


Some hours in which

Your names and lives

Might shine.


Wasn’t that nice?


A cycle of light

In which your hearts

Became the world.


We gave you this day


So when we cast you back

Into the doubts

Of night


We won’t feel so bad


For being the ones

Who took the dreams

From your eyes.

A happy machine

Sings to you of the sunshine;

A bright-voiced engine.


From dark oiled chambers

Where combustion burns its soul

Comes your strength and smiles.


You switch the settings:

Perfect joy to empathy

Deep as calming night.


When the day is done

You can turn its feelings off

And watch it fall apart.

Burn through the words:

Get paid.


Twist the knife,

Make it hurt,

Make them love you.


Cash in their dreams:

Give them shackles.


Pay the price,


Push it.


Perform, persuade:

Get the sale.


Get in touch

With your






Save the smiles,

For when they’re watching


Live the lie,


Push it.


We live


For those moments

Which are



But delicious:





A touch on the cheek,


Or a kiss

At midnight.


When we were both young

The sunshine flowed through our veins,

But our eyes were dark.



You’ve been gone so long;

You have faded into wind,

Into whispers, dreams.



Looking to the sky,

It reminds me of your soul:

Endless, distant.



There is a country

Where I might have known your heart

Free from its shadows.

Your blood calls out,

Sings between heartbeats

To me



And echoes

Through my days

And leads me back



To what he left us;

The night,

This broken country



And its ghosts,

Asking again

How it is



We all come back

To gaze upon

His one fixed star?

In some places,

Audacity is mistaken

For Light



And Truth

Is a thing for shadows



In these places

You might burn

So brightly



And leave

With only ashes in your soul



Should the walls come down

It will not be due

To an insufficient brilliance



But rather that some places know blindness

Places like this


This day has ended;

In its triumph or its doom,

Which fire paints the sky?



This flame of sunset;

Is it the sweetness which burns,

Or its bitterness?

If I could see myself through the eyes of God: outside of Time, all things at once…

I would see the boy dreaming and the man standing alone.

My love for her, forever blooming; the empty night which never stops.

All summers, all sunsets; they’re always swelling, they never stay.

And in these days, to see bliss frozen; and in my yearnings, a deathless flame.

All triumphs, all heartbreaks: forever rising, to fall forever.

Would it help me understand–this coming from darkness, this ending in darkness? To know the light which goes between?

A Record of Days

April 2014
« Mar    

What is Said, What is Done

Lockie Young on For Those Who See
Vanessa Richards on My Hometown
Citizen of Sky on April
Doug on April
Citizen of Sky on Smoke

A Sunday Evening History of the Mind

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© Copyright Matthew Briggs 2013. Unauthorized use or duplication of material appearing on this site without express written permission from the author is strictly prohibited.

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