is there a difference
I often wonder you know
just my imagination – my fears
or perhaps there is no difference between light
shadows appear inside my already gloom ridden castle
whether or not my light is on
the difference is paper thin. Sharp
enough to bleed iron
This welcome sunshine
burns away thoughts of that sweet rain
which washed away that radiant sunshine
after it burnt away those morning mists
which dampened spirits of those moonilt fields
whose silence opened to breathe the stars
as they themselves woke the might of time
where it sparked imagination into being
and that life there, that simple dream
taught the soul the art of seeing
and that life there, that simple sight
opened doors to the unseen light
of this dark world, this world of
fragile alchemic blight
where the sun it shines to breathe new life
to give us hope for a world of sight
Flowers are amazing creatures
they react to, and follow light
and what are smiles
but little torches of love.
Smiles are contagious, and one little smile
can illuminate and cause a whole avalanche of smiles
Also, one smile can show us the way to unseen possibilities within us.
Just one little smile.
I saw the light
and it was blinding
blinding to my eye
and then again I saw it three
in both which equal six
An image there I could not fathom
hidden in the veins
was it silver
was it dark
or was it Lucifer’s ark
Blind I remained
a few seconds more
till sight came back to me
and there I blinked
into her eyes
her smile eternity
Lucifer his light banished
his form hidden from view
for what can he
with all his beauty
offer mortal soul as me
for I am drowned
in human form
as we are all to be
except by chance
we stumble upon
a smile of eternity.
How it is these poems arrive sometimes baffles me. Early this morning while drinking coffee in bed I read Mihai Eminescu’s poem Lucifer and those words sent my mind back to yesterday at the eye infirmary where I had to have my eyes photographed. Fully dilated, those bright lights dug deep into my skull. I saw veins and weird things for a split second or two and thought nothing of it until now except for her smile of course.
I wanted to feel its creation.
It only lasted the short time
until the wax
to reveal the truth of art
for art is born of darkness
in the cold reaches of mystery
where myth blends with reality
and where imagination’s atoms
shiver in perpetual flights of expired
I wanted to understand.
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.