We are such little things

A poem I wrote back in 2017 seems to be very much how things are today.

~

Could there be a time when kissing is outlawed
when tactile pleasures are banned
when the human race shall become
a non-contact sport

There are fears of contracting any one of these new found diseases
or even the old ones
which in our fragile make-up
our poor breaths of life
they breed

There is the virus carrying fruit bat
or the parasite carrying mosquito
and a whole number of little things to which we are oblivious
as we go about our daily grind
for the human body is under attack from the moment it is born
to the moment the little things win

We must continue to make love with life
we must continue

for we are such little things

Rainwater

With each step
we write our lives
with quills dipped in rainwater
for as soon as it is written
it fades under the glare of happiness
or is washed away by storms of solitude

The mere act of dipping
is enough to send ripples along to the roots of Gaia’s smile
where she drinks in the questions of us mortal masterpieces
for as soon as it is written
our souls, our spirits, our hearts and our minds become
lost in the frustrations of being unable to comprehend
the reasons why we are given such beauty
only for it to be washed away

The act of being kind to the rains as they fall
brings its own rewards
for when we write our lives
with quills of love
we shall be given
in return
the truth of how to live in the now moments
of how to flow over storm-crusted stepping stones of haste
and of how to write with rainwater
and know there are no answers except for those we create

When we write with rainwater
the sun shines
and the storms rage
as we breathe
know and feel
the beauty of existence

~

Another poem from before that seems to resonate with the way things are going nowadays.

From 2017 published in After the Rain.

When the dust settles

When the dust settles

We are born seeing the world as a solid place
with different surfaces: earth, air, water, fire and so forth.
All solid in their own way.

We go about our lives interacting with each surface
creating things using a mixture of these solids which includes ourselves.

Sometimes when there is a silence there comes a clarity
and the dust motes begin their slow dance of finality.

If you sit long enough with the air around you becoming still
you’ll come to see things in their natural states.

You’ll receive a heightened appreciation of your surroundings
and with your senses reborn you can watch as the dust settles
to reveal a blank canvas where everything permanent, solid,
has an ambient essence of life with a different atmosphere.

You’ll see.

Struggle

We struggle through our time
we see so much of the things we’d rather not see
we look upon each moment with a feeling of fear
and yet, here we are
living and loving through our time
seeing and making things we love
and with feeling, feeling
with feeling we strike at the heart of fear
and see that its blood, its soul
struggles just like us

for things to survive
even that pretty little flower
there has to be a struggle

Life, you see, isn’t so easy
it takes so much effort for it to be,
look at the chick breaking through the shell

Look at a baby pushing its way out
and listen to the mother and just feel her effort
and hear that cry, that primal scream from those tiny lungs

Why do we make it such a struggle
do we forget our first call while still covered in life’s blood
all that effort we made to live
only for us to live in fear of our neighbours

and yet, here we are
living and loving through our time
seeing and making things we love
with feeling, feeling …

Passion

This is why we do the things we do
it is the reason behind everything
or else what would be the point
what be the purpose of me being a poet
or of you being a poet
or of you/me
or of you being a singer
or a dancer
a teacher
a thinker
creator
guide
… spirit whisperer
soul connector
heart lifter
life bringer …

Passion
it is the reason behind it all
even if it is something as mundane
as making a cup of tea
because passion is there
in the swirling.

Time

Sitting here watching a spider as it’s being blown by the wind while continually building its web.

It falls againt my window, gets blown about and dangles but time and again it carries on its repairs.

It’s a thing they do and not just the spiders but all those creatures out there. They just do stuff oblivious to life and its reasons.

They feel, but not in the same sense we feel as humans with our compassion and hatred, our anxieties, empathy and those maddening questions of life and the reality of it all, the reasons of being, of time and of religion and all those things we have no control over.

The spider is there still doing its thing and I’ve forgotten how to be something other than a failure.

If I just carry on regardless while being buffeted, and with those turbulent feelings in my gut of fear, love and something other that i can’t explain then maybe time will come to my rescue.

Perhaps the universe, in her wisdom, has a message for me in the spider, and as I write these last words the sun breaks through and I realise sometimes there is nothing we can do to change or to help so we have carry on while trying to bring our own light upon the world.

Thank you.

Connections

Connections complete us
and compete with us.

As one connection is made
so another fades.

This is the reality of life
the order of things.

A heartbeat is merely an echo
of silence
and within this silence
connections are made and lost.

A breath is nothing but
an exhumation of time
and within this time
we are being destroyed.

A touch is sufficient enough
for a soul to reach its purpose
and within this purpose
is love.

A living thought is dependent
upon its merit
for we are beings with the potential
to create malignant or benevolent connections.

This is the reality of life
the order of things.

As one connection is made
so another fades.

Connections complete us
and compete with us.