Evermore

There is now,
And this is my evermore.
The clocks remain still,
And the hands that move them have no will.

There's a breeze that blows from the south-west,
The homeless set their beds on bus-stop benches,
And the last bus passes by- no one to get out or in-
You can't miss a bus that never stops, rushing past.

The bats flutter across the sunset,
As dark as night, elegant and intent,
So what if you can't see, just listen,
The world is cat's ball of wool, strings set free.

The horns blare and race,
There are homes elsewhere,
There are midnight cravings, and moments of hope,
There's somewhere to be now, and else on the morrow.

The signals blink amber, look and proceed they beg,
But the blinding light race as fast and as far,
There's this moment where you see it all as a distant star,
You look and chase, and it is still far away, this is evermore.

The dog packs give chase with rage brewed all day,
The tea stalls that threw them biscuits remain still;
There are no masters, there's no art, or other living in the now-
Pulled by gravity, torn by speed, to remain in evermore.

There's a weak crescent moon rising at a distant shore,
The waves never remain still, even in evermore.

The caws of the sleepless try to drown the aircon,
But the summer air is too hot, and the crows too tired,
They try and as they might, to say a bit more,
But all you can do is, live, and hope, in evermore.

There is now,
And this is my evermore.
The clocks remain still,
And the hands that move them have no will.

This is now,
And this is my evermore.

This is evermore.