Winter's Bridge

this evolved after thinking about the dark over the small river I cross every night on my way home from work.

At edgeless depth of this black 

Black night - as the water flows

Supposing - endless - bridge silent and there

In the darkness passing into darkness

Winter days - reflection is all uncertain

Dark or light - the focus pulled

The constant of an unfinished calm

Enchanted with a loss of rhythm

Under this walk of unknowing - theories

A dark water miasma - of haunted suppression

Rocks the asking - speculates - reveals 

A present topic - the inward reality

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

wow, Michael....for some reason i just read this and pictured Ophelia...
her darkness, confusion...the brook that called her name, and eventually enticed her to its cold dark waters.
i felt your "haunted suppression" in this.

[Michael Oliver]

I walk over this bridge every night back from work at about 9:30 every night Ioften stand on the way to work and watch the water - it takes me back 20 years when I lived near its source and would walk through the woods and gaze into its narrow beginnings.It passes from the certainties of youth to the present wisdom of not really knowing. There is less time in front than there is behind.Thank you for reading

[Cryingkate]

A close up of the image :-) nearly brings tears to flow.
The tired worn eyes and unfinished calm
lost and the loss of Rhythm
and lost in theories in search of reality.

To me the inward reality is the real one. The other was Pre- manufactured
Anyhow I bid thee Goodnight. It's nearly dawn. I'm usually just getting up 2-3 hrs ago.
It was a pleasure talking with you again.
warning.... I'll be back :-)

[Michael Oliver]

today is only true for today but even then we do not know - the core problem of The Theatetus - Popper et al - it is called growing old

[Cryingkate]

I think you are speaking of “chorismos” ?

[Michael Oliver]

Dunno just trying to tidy up my thinking

[NoelHC]

As I read this, my mind went to some of the writings of Anna Ahkmatova, about the Neva River in St. Petersburg. Very evocative, it painted a picture in my mind.