Memory fretting on Memory

As I stood there
Under hawthorn and hazel;
A coppery canopy braided
With sunshine,
I could hear the noise
Of my heart in the wind;
A soft haggling sound
Of memory fretting
On memory.

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A Life worth remembering

Sometimes from my doorstep on a morning
Of drifting pollen grains I can hear the silence
Hushing about the eaves,
Pouring its attention into mountain streamlets.
By mid morning the vast rolls of the sea
Break around the blue cliffs,
Splitting apart and merging into wholeness
Like the wrecking and healing of time.
Sometimes fragmented rhythms chance upon
These knotted flows of sound;
Warnings of incoming gales beneath shafts of sunlight
Demanding step-by-step negotiations.
But such mornings should always be undertaken
With great respect for its own moods.
Even tricky surfaces are holy ground,
Twigs, pebbles, stones and seaweed underfoot,
Touching, scraping, padding the skin
To give us memory, to give us a life
Worth remembering.

I am

I am sky; absent clouds shifting,
Bright dusk arising or descending,
Roaring quietly, but deeply and eternally
Unstable.
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,
Everything.

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.

One day, the world will dance for you

One day, the world
Will dance for you,
So don’t stop your crying
if it can ease the pain,
Those puddles will grow into lakes
And the sky of your lifetime
Will silver in a waxing sun,
Bleaching dusk into dawn.

One day, you will carry
Their sand in your hourglass,
So don’t let the world sugar-coat your
Lemon-puffed eyes to stop the tears,
Breathe hard against the winds
Trying to catch you in a storm of
Foreign thoughts.

One day, your feet
Will lift from the ground,
So don’t let your heart become skinny
from spreading out too far,
Even feathers can grow heavy
in the pouring rain,
And singular exhales come
With a far too heavy price.

Walking down a lonely road

I’m walking down a lonely road
I wish time wasn’t walking along,
Seeing faces and places;
Reminders of home.

There is snow on the signposts,
Autumn’s clutter in the guts,
Beaten down tracks of
Asphalt and stone.

I’m walking down a lonely road
I wish I wasn’t walking alone,
Seeing white-painted crossings
Faded and gone.

There are untouched skipping stones
In sea-washed harbors,
And crab traps left
To yellow and grow old.

I’m walking down a lonely road
Where possibilities’ shop
Has long since been closed,
Leaving only in its wake
Miles and miles of unclaimed love.