Behind a mesh
Of grasses
And fibrous gauze
That image
From the beach
Fourteen years ago tomorrow
It is no more than grains of sand
The book, the stainless steel wrist-watch
The ubiquitous mobile telephone
They are by my bedside
Beneath the glow of the table lamp
Out into the darkness, all to see is reflection
The night hides the banked up woodlands
The night silences the usually intrusive wildlife
The night holds the day's mind at bay
Surrounded, swathed
In cotton and quilt
Within touching-distance
Of leather and porcelain
These walls though
They do not carry my pictures
My past is not ingrained
Within their stone and timber
A realisation: it is what matters
Another kind of wake up call
A time to focus, rebuild past memories
At least, to try to hold on to the treasure
And so to practice
As if in a mindful meditation
Climb the mountainous steps
To the peace of the monastery
I will:
Polish the lens of the glasses
Set the wristwatch to one side
Unplug the sim-card from the mobile phone
In final preparation:
Turn down the light of the bedside lamp
And, being thankful of breath and breathing
I will pick up my pen and write
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