By Susan Blades
We will have seen the saviours before they arrive.
Shirt-sleeves bearing models of doom,
Now shrouded in mystery, before long
They will materialise in the past.
The memories of brick dust,
scorched bone and gas will be supplanted by
wonders. All possibility will tremble
on the moment.
Rejoice. Hail the anticipated new country.
We deserve this future.
A glamour entices us through the
Murk of the coming dawn.
Entranced with the new,
Chaos from order from chaos.
Bring it. The phoenix drawing song
Yesterday’s bomb-blasted bodies buried
By the landslide of invention.
We are charmed into the unknown.
Flux, grind, whirl and the return of time.
All this glimpsed in the smoke.
Let the dust settle, but we cannot wait.
Lured we are by the wooing
Twilight geometry into imagined certainty.
The shades of the future enthral
And invite us. We will step up
And over now, towards then,
Dust at our heels.
Show us O Saviours we cry,
Lead us back, to the light.
Now and forever,
World without end.