Trace : a poem of displacement

Carving a trace through time
You weave between the pillars
Of my dark forest, moving them gently
To make space for shafts of light

You travel through our endless
Avenues of box-rooms
Open skylights
Move furniture
Clearing a path for dreams

You walk among the lampstands
And the temples
Adjusting walls
Treading floors
Displacing ground beneath our feet

Yours is a strange order
A creator so inventive
Your solution found
Round the next corner of the universe

I could never catch your shadow
Moving with perpetual grace
Shifting the features of my landscape
If you did not wait and gauge your pace