I hold my eyes in my hands
as witness to what I can only see once:
as a weapon they shoot and capture all
at one and the same time.
And my eyes become the memory,
the stone of thoughts carved,
the book with one thousand word pages,
the box that holds every infinite chance:
To feel the glimmer of all that is,
to see what is only a moment,
to steal the light from the past –
And hold it in the present.
Sunday, 1 June 2008
Haven’t done any writing for a while. This one was written just prior to the Melbourne Writer’s Meet for June with the theme ‘photography’
It’s about photography.