Never It Will Be The Same Again
What I came to miss has no name. I can only try to describe. As a young man it felt as though I perfectly mirrored the sky. When it rained, I rained. When it was grey, I was grey. And when the sun came out, I came out of myself as if I were shedding a skin and stepping into a new beautiful world : my whole chemistry, seasonally affective. And I paid much more attention to the sky than I do these days. There just seemed to be more sky. And its clouds passed through me and its rain was absorbed deep into my skin. And its snow settled on my heart. What I came to miss has no name. I can only try to describe. When a boy, I ran home over fields as it turned dark; my heart beating in my mouth after some almighty adventure. And the sky ran after me. And its clouds, like grey eagles, wings outstretched, clawed. And this was my fear of the impending night: what I felt within, turned inside out and mirrored in the sky. And mirrored in the sky. Turned inside out and mirrored in the sky. Turned inside out and mirrored in the sky. Turned inside out and mirrored in the sky.
(Words – GA Johnson)