Behold, the ‘rosy-fingered dawn’

so oft described

yet seldom seen

by those whose lives

are ruled by clock

and cause, and careless choice.

This hallowed, hazy

perspective – our present speed

notwithstanding –

brings a sense of peace

to life’s proceedings that

is difficult to find

when on the ground.

Languorous, our progress

as creation’s light

re-makes the world below.

God-like in our seeing

yet comfortably subject

to our pre-planned course.


Fields and towns below

in such precision laid

across this foreign landscape.

What once was home now looks

so managed; so completely subdued.

This seems the goal of ‘civilized society’:

Subdue the earth and fill it…”

says The Book –

yet such subjugation seems,

from here, so artificial –


If the goal is sustenance, then

feed the world – treat neighbour as thy self

but fear’s the motive;

fear of creeping chaos that

Creation’s freedom foists upon us.


Continues the journey

begun in only the

suggestion of light.

Fleeing the promise of dawn

with all its shadow and uncertainty

pausing briefly in the raw, bright

glare of morning.

But day journeys on into

evening – where shadows

glare and gather again.

Where earth’s graceful curve

obscures – occludes

that great revealing light.

And just as light leaves us

winking over the edge

of the abyss of time and space

it paints (again) the promise of dawn

and leaves us to sleep in hope.

Nov 3rd, 2010 – en route to Toronto

JR Lackie


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