flowing quiet past willows, sucked in boggy ground,
as fear’s mallards fly above in raucous, ancient cry;
so does the veil of reason still so sure and gently quiver.
Fire of thought is smoking at the serried edges of sanity,
twinned with madness in dual, Janus floating shadows,
deliquescent coiling as the oars of hope firmly bend still water;
the scenery of consciousness bright coloured by depravity.
Faithless Self blows mists across hope’s sullen, stinking ponds,
fuels that loud cascade of potential and endless possibility,
listens for the trumpet of delusion’s harsh and bitter melody;
life’s gramophone still turning, blaring on and on and on.
Forsaking all the angels hold in bright and open palms,
denying that the fissure threatens to consume, destroy,
when pleasure and its torrents choke in suffocation;
so do laughter’s droplets fall as Soul’s replenished alms.
Memories do sit in wait like dolls upon some magic shelf,
skirts are spread upon the muck of horrors now repressed,
camouflage for sanity within its cage of sorrowed stripes;
no ink to write a stanza – restore symbols, truth’s great wealth.
Dance of Soul becoming is what the Self must now embrace,
tattered cards of partners long forgotten have no home,
their scent remains as textures, perfumes of the shattered past;
those loves sink deep as stones and leave no further trace.
So do the tides of being make their way across this world,
in currents weak and strong, in waves which wash eternal,
dropped as dregs and dross upon time’s stretching beach;
writing slow in brutal, broken script – impermanence is all
Barbara: limpid, blood, river
Viv: boggy, willows, mallards
Nicole: fire, veil, dual
puff of smoke: scenery, oars, bend
Christopher: faithless, mists, cascade
Hannah: gramophone, trumpet, melody
Walt: fissure, free, forsaking
Debi: torrent, pleasure, droplets
Misky: dolls, muck, magic
Irene: cage, stripes, camouflage
Jules: ink, stanza, symbols
Walt2: dance, cards, home
Rick: scent, stones, textures
Suzanne: currents, tides, impermanence