the invitation.
written by patrick bayele.
you're late.
you're always late.
where on earth have you been?
2 hours kip, eyes coarse with insomnia,
mementos of the morning flickering
like a done-out super 8
and mate it's only tuesday.
rah.
and then you deep it.
you're always thinking about something.
and that's why you're always late.
because the weight of your punctured freedom
swings loose in that brittle rib cage
and electric blood swells thick and fast
at the thought of every single future that could destroy you
man you're out here! downing cortisol like jaegarbombs
yeah you're running late.
you're on a train.
the same train you've been on before
a hundred times.
irish train driver buss 2-2 joke
and a smile is wrenched.
a lady, rainbow-clad, going about her sorrow
is smitten to tears by a stranger's dog
yeah fair enough.
football donnies barkin' unintelligible delight,
in orchestral unison…
baby on board, stood at you like you owe them your life,
and up you get.
this rhythm is so. so.
but bro. lemme ask you sutt’n.
what if this was the invitation?
that the time we spend, afraid or enamored of melancholy
is a wounded folly, hindering the most gracious of graces?
that when we witness each other through a dreamer's eyes,
the spectres which dance and die before us
glimmer with outrageous love and stubborn beauty.
that every skin which
retches
at the dare of touch
is a sacred garment tantamount to scripture.
that this picture of perpetual malaise
is a celestial parade
in which we shimmer and blaze, burning in ruthless blue
what if this invitation is the greatest story ever told?
and every tear, laugh, bloodied gash and resplendent heart
depended on you?
depended on your willingness,
to be. and leave becoming to the work of eternity's hands.
by the way you're on the central line.
the ting's mad noisy.
it's jarring.
yet it becomes the anthem of revelation.
you're getting off next stop. look at you!
that twinge of fragile hope biting your lips,
your eyes fall back to baby on board and you clock her eyes dart,
from you to the floor, after being momentarily arrested by your heart
You've been witnessed!
a raging exclamation mark flashes above your head.
great. now what?
seek respite in shattered dark,
or begin again?
hmm.
if you accept that invitation,
tell me how you pull it off.
so I can live in your time - your here, your present.
your limitless yarn of now.
