the art of seeing

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

As tea is sipped

Is it so high
so far above?

Reaching for a leaf
a cloud
a star

Reaching for a feather
thunder
blue

Is it so high
so far above
or is it that I
have not given enough thought

Time does not exist
we invented a name
to make us feel safe
but instead we count
the minutes until the tea is brewed
and in that “time”
millions, billions, trillions of things
live and die
in the blink of an eye

and we have not given enough
thought to each other
and why should we
when in the blink of an eye
the cup is empty.