Going Caveman

Here, in country dark the black so thick one can almost touch it feel it ooze out of the moment ...before time. I am 9. Cork is a somewhere adrift in space as I this midnight child steal from sleep & into Granny's garden. The dark erases my physical body until there is only me thinking me as if thought were the only thing keeping me alive. I take a leaf hidden from my sight known only by its touch. smear it against the house's wall (Granny inside snoring in sleep) . Here, an invisible berry seen only by fingertips squashed colour staining the moment with its magic my hands all goosegog & damson. And now the stolen match struck against the world itself making the crudely drawn emerge into being the flame's flicker making it come alive in my mind. 9 year old me reaching...reaching back through the ages touching time as if it were a tangible thing. Knowing now how the caveman felt as he created a creature made from the destruction of leaf and berry springing into life in the shadow's dance a creature made of fire and dark. And then the match goes out & I am 9 again hopping around with burnt fingertips. Watching time as it collapses become the boy once more frightened out of his 20th Century self journeying through time in the sudden scratch of a stolen match.