Graindays

Already then, as we were,
you could already feel
the grain settle on the film,
standing as a time bulwark,
ageing the present
and fading the prospects.

No wonder the days
started already imprinted
passing straight to myth:
an echoing everlasting now,
fleeting in the consciousness
of its self awareness.

A tape recorded to be lost.

Cycling gold ages,
Shines as you pass the line.
Without coming back, they,
Illuminate the upcoming,
For a delightful while.