Requiem - Joolz

Slowly, slowly, the heavy golden days

Slide past like honey off a spoon

The fire hisses and the wind outside

Shakes the windows in their frames

People pass outside, their lives like tramlines

Moving in some silent, ritual passage

Faces blank as water, their eyes folded and secret

Clutching themselves to themselves

Corsetted and strapped against the world’s tricks…

Nothing makes them jump

These autumn weeks slip past

Like a timeless river, never to return

A sightless melancholy washes the faces, and the streets;

They say that those who die from exposure

At the end, cuddle in their snow shrouds

As if a were a lover’s arms

Warm and sleepy as the Lady takes them home

For the last time;

As the storm clouds of hysteria thicken and rumble

On horizons far away

I wonder if this stupor is our last golden dream

And if we’ll ever wake from it again