Quicksilver day, leaden night
The minutes slip into hours
My silent prayer for greater insight
Wending its way to unseen powers
Earlier day was dappled golden-grey
The wind bent the trees from their places
The moments silently slipped quickly away
In the tumult, leaving no traces
Save for a cumulative strain
That grew with the dimming of light
A slow heaviness felt in the brain
Which yearns for relief in the night
May blessed calm succeed the storm
And every doubt let us defray
May powers that be work alchemy: transform
Leaden night to quicksilver day.
Heart: especially "Save for a cumulative strain". Definitely feel that: years of moments congealing in ways you wish they wouldn't - despite not being able to say for sure how you wish they would.
Yesterday afternoon we got home from some serious physical labor followed by several pints, and got into playing favorite songs through the performance amp - Linkin Park's "In The End" slithering its way into the mix....