When we to time wish,
wings do not carry all words
so I to promise must desist,
faith is fickle feathers on fragile birds.
If love to hearts hold
then hearts be more than one must
for not is love a concrete mould;
stilled the river bed whose reeds rot to rust.
When we to time turn,
touch being a tethered thread,
I have to trust that ties will burn
but mind make memory of beating bed.
If love in heart’s held
just as blood in veins are bound,
then truth to self must be compelled,
feral is the field of the barren ground.
When I to nights slip
as moon to stars serenade,
my course cast upon ocean’s ship
bid adieu to lips kissed and loves mislaid.
When current’s call comes
and cares cast into the crest
I dare the waves to beat like drums
and allegiance pledge to my beating breast.
All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly