Throbs subtly above my brow,
While the wind and rain outside
Mimic the beats of an arena
Left too far behind.
One year on with little to show,
Bar the reparation of a broken heart
By women with looking eyes
But withheld hands.
In the darkness of home
I recall shapeless tents
In the dead of night
Threatening to swallow me whole –
Without fair judgement.
Visions interchange
Like a kaleidoscope
As my mind amalgamates
Memories and fantasies
Together,
Creating events that never happened
(but that I badly wanted to happen).
And for a moment, head in my hands,
My exhaustion drags me back,
And I am soaked but sprightly again,
Lost in the fiery arcade
Of unanimous emotion
Caused by the duality
Of music and love,
Which are never mutually exclusive.
I feel myself locked arm-in-arm
With friends newly made
And friends rediscovered,
With the oldest of friends
Reliably resolute in flowing
Within the masses, too –
A rebellion against the skies,
Built on castles in the air,
And everybody is smiling.
But back in the present,
As my eyes begin to lose
Their fight against fatigue,
My head vainly screams at me
To finish saying my part
Before the rain outside
Mingles with my perfect rest
And washes away
The hope which blossomed
From being with her,
And being with them all,
As fellow citizens of
The annually apocalyptic
Utopia of Stradbally.
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