| The Poetry of Richard Sansom Published by The British Sansom Society | |
 
| |
| Our Human Selves An hour or more ago the sun set, and now, above the dark trees a half-moon glows, and a host of crickets sing out their rasping chorus in the night. These things tell me I am alive, and I know my friends and family are also living -- somewhere. They are scattered from here to there, across the earth, and their nexus is my thought of how they are and where they are, and how they see the moon. The connection is precious, and selfishly mine -- I think. Soon, I will sleep, and devolve into my own universe, one that even I don’t understand. My dreams will wrap me up in memory, love and fear and cast me onto a strange landscape. I can imagine my friends and family also slipping into their somnolent worlds, apart and singular. But, as apart as we may be, I feel that there is where we meet, in that strange landscape, grown up from the million years in which were spawned our human selves. | |
| BACK TO TOP OF PAGE |