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Symbiain Intelligence presents. It Seemed. A poem by Iain Davie.

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It seemed
those luminous days
would never end;

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yet my soul had felt empty
and so I thought
of a trip to the country

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or the sea or a lake.

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the station was very crowded
full of children and dogs
and luggage bound by straps,

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like being in a tunnel
from where I finally emerged,
having rented a bicycle

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at my mountain side inn,
to a brilliance
of which as if a roof of glass

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magnified the light,
with me in a comfortable feeling
having felt heavy and drained

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from that darkness the previous day.

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for my interest was in the secret life
into which few can penetrate
to which I had hoped

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at the mountainside cave,
at the end of that dusty way,
by the empty stone cottage

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and pleasant grass
of wheat coloured stretches
then green and recumbent and rich,

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I would open up
and self-prescribe a cure,
by the wisdom of the generations,

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with a knowledge
that need not question itself,
skirted by strands of trees,

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as if a huge deck of images,
hand shuffled
to silence and please.

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now I was across from the cottage
and curious as to an open garden gate
paralleling the sandy dusty way,

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I did hesitate, yet drifted inside,
the sun hitting my face
reflected by the beautiful stones in the wall,

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that if passing quickly
would have easily remained unseen
some pale as bread

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others sea dark,

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my eyes then fully opened,
for in the near distance
was an open window

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to the warm morning air
and now to my ear
the patter of light heels

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on stone floors from inside,
and me thinking it’s fine,
that travellers can stare idly

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through open windows
and roving the flowers in the box,

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to then now see inside in a mirror
her hair gleaming and silken
a silent girl

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with a face like a bird from heaven
one of those pretty little faces
the bones close beneath,

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a passionate face,
the face of a girl
who might move to the city,

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large eyes framed by dark
fine delicate brows in reflection,

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and in seeing her so clearly,
she could not see me,
yet her eyes are dark

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she can see through people
her nose feminine
and me curious to see her teeth

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she touches her dark silken hair
first beneath her ear,
then the other and earrings,

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no polish on her fingernails
and she now motionless
stares at herself inverted

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for what she sees is the opposite,

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and I cannot take my eyes from her,
and me now worried
that she might finally

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look out of her window,
and me with a sudden spell of nervousness,
stark as a monument

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to her universal beauty;

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the details of a whole new world
being opened up to me
as I quietly carried myself back

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through her gate
then along that dusty path
to arrive at the cave,

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that the whole idea
of coming here seemed visionary

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Symbiain Intelligence. Clearer evidence. Better questions. Human judgement.