passing through

Place:
Where this ageing face
And tired baggage
Slip inevitable,
Invisible as my west.
Well met, horizon,
Rising yet, as hidden
From my view, as I,
Invisible but for my
Fewer few.

Superfluous,
Wandering witness
In etheric states,
Wise to the grains
Of a World
Unrecognisable,
As old beholds anew
Of nothing new
But fate in preparation
For Eternity
Is passing through.

My infinite thread,
The tapestry to grace,
Opaque
And limit led
In purpose and effect,
Immeasurable
Of tread and trace
But trust and save
My time be fixed within its
Perfect breathing space.