Wrought Iron

You can’t always see where your feet land but
the earth knows where to move, stones fall
into place for us, they live longer lives.
A wise fault, line up at the edge to wait.
One step forward in each moment of this day.
The mists hide fires, higher than the rivers.
He stands against the clock, hands turn him
around. A face that never changes as seconds
pass by and turn into long-stretched years.
The same circles revolve while all heartbeats
become a blur. He is built to last. Wait
for the next change to happen at the end
of this built road. Valleys wash away, drowned
by the fog with dampened footsteps. The world
goes no further than our arms can reach.
Horizons brought close by engineered fates,
placed carefully in his path, not able to see
the destination, and just out of reach.
The end.

The inspiration for this poem came from a Dragan Todorović picture on 500px. It was suggested by Victoria Hooper for World Poetry Day 2013.

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