The bell still tolls
for fear of silence.
Traditions forged
in time on hold.
Relict rituals
blunt mad disarray –
aspic architecture
against routine decay.
Meaning is dragged
behind the chariot.
The chorus sings a dirge
with ad-lib lyrics.
A watercolour epitaph
bleeds in an unnamed storm.
Redshift does a slow drift
in a universe bent on being cool.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
19 October 2026
