Strings

Not the day, not the night that beckons.

But a force from outside, or from within.

Not the seldom rainbow, or the overbearing dark cloud.

Of a seamless and vast sky, on a sunless day.

But the gentle touch of an invisible hand.

That seems to hold me back, when I stop to ponder.

If ever there is a day when I can slink away from my dreams.

Only to realise that they go wherever I go.

Not the day, not the night that beckons.

But a force from outside, or from within.