When I stand by the sea

When I stand by the sea
On a slanting black cliff,
I hear myself echoing the waves.
And in the pit of my humanity
A stream stirs to life,
Pulling towards the horizon.
I let that tender unity
Pour out of me,
until I am stretched
Far beyond the visible horizon.


The stillness has finally settled

The stillness has finally settled,
It is as though the arctic night
Has lent its voice to the sunny day.
And I can hear branches swaying softly
In the wind, like wings preparing for flight.
And my own heart leaving
To be caressed by the pointy light hands
Of stars, as it listens
To the softly humming breath
Of God.

I am

I am sky; absent clouds shifting,
Bright dusk arising or descending,
Roaring quietly, but deeply and eternally
Birthing stars from darkness and
Obscuring galaxies into oblivion.
Like a sea of torrential consciousness
My awareness is illuminated by death.
I am emptiness; inhabiting;
Without space for nothing,

I am; availability; the taking
And making of matters,
A steeply elusive discus
Releasing at the precise millisecond
Of maximum thrust.

I am; a consistently integrated ambition,
clustering unlimited sub-selves
With a secret objective.

I am; impossible opportunity,
Bright darkness burning,
A moonlit sun and wind;
Unmoving wind tearing holes
In the moving of space.

I am; vision; reinvigorated
By the opposition, I spread through
Shallow eternity,
Spinning slowly, enfolding
In art, biology, science.

I am; the invisible you,
The nothing and everything
In all.

A Ripple in time

Your life is a ripple in time;
A chain reaction of events sparked
By your birth.
Wether you walk amongst wildflowers,
Or trail along a heathery marsh way,
Pushing a cloud-spun meadow
On the blue horizon, or
Dragging along the sun,
Your seasonal skin will keep falling;
Peeling off coats of arms, smoothed
By currents of interchanging keys,
Until nothing remains but a soft wind,
Tossing upon someone else’s waves.

I Sleep out on the Moors


I sleep out on the moors
Under the thick canopy of faraway islands
Shimmering golden against
The black tunnel
Of fear and wonder.

I sleep out on the moors
Searching for my eyes amongst
Constellations that have not yet
Taken form.

I sleep out on the moors
Listening to brooks tick-tocking
In circles under lime stones,
And dryads, aged into stone,
Choraling with the wind.

I sleep out on the moors
With tall trees swaying gently
To the deep humming
That makes up the soundtrack
Of Life.

I sleep out on the moors
Even though, there are people
Looking for me, and there is
A sea falling from glaciers,
I sleep out on the moors…

To Become a Galaxy


There I was on the white and blue tundra
In the middle of the night.
A loneliness of space and time
Surged through me,
With the knowledge of a thousand
Undiscovered galaxies
Withering into earth
By the autumn death of leaves and limbs.
A white bird dove passed me and I startled
As it brushed its wing against my face,
Taking with it a tiny dusting of skin cells
On its migratory journey.
Maybe if I stood there forever
I would erode
As millions of birds moved south.
To become
A galaxy all in my own.