Hammer at the feelings,
frame the thoughts denied,
dump the doubts and fears;
epic are the tides.

Rivers will keep flowing,
hours the list of days,
straight the moment calling;
protects you in all ways.

Sense the gusts of knowing,
hesitate no more,
let the fates do guidance;
abide by ancient law.

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The real borders exist in the mind,
and have no form in the material
world, but are more powerful, than
any fence or wall or gate might be,

for they enclose our thoughts, our
beliefs, our attitudes and often, our
feelings, in ways which prevent the
truth of connection; in ways which

hold us in place, defined, if not
imprisoned behind the edifice of
fear, which made boundaries so
necessary, in the first place, and

which, is always, through distant
night, and hovering day, working
artfully, to replace the mortar, make
stronger the defences, reinforce the

walls, which hold us in and others
out, those boundaries of heart and
mind, of soul and psyche; those
borders we have so carefully built,

where trailing leaves, seeking roots,
perfumed blossoms, call always
from the other side, just out of our
reach, and beyond limited vision.

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It was the first lie which led the way,
like an orange beacon on the hill of
deceit, beginning that march into evil,
which left love hanging on the broken

gate of betrayal, where more lies stood
as statues, carved in sad facts of denial,
and right, kneeled, whimpering in the
skirts of yesterday; adultery’s hood had

defined my truth, hidden your face in such
blackness, that no amount of torches could
ever bring enough light to bear upon what
now was an impossible, searing, darkness.

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New Life

You became who you were in an exploration,

of becoming, through the marriage of male and

female, woven into being in dark brightness,

where silence sang ancient songs through

watered, imaginings; drifting in an ocean

salted through time and love, breathing in

that slow way of creation, through all that

you were, or might be, as the angels drew

in scented books, the story of the life you

would live and who you would become, as

you left the place where life had entered into

your soul, passing through each breath I

took, each surge of my blood and waiting

love, in that deep unknowing we both knew.

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The Flood

They’ve taken down the
shining light, and the
river, has returned to its

blackened, hidden self.

In that place of dreams,

night beds down, slow

forgetting tides and flow,

calling to the darkness,

arched as innocent surrender,

true to sightless possibility,

nothing seen, just imagined,

sounds of suckling mud,

as it flows, out of sight,

drifting in that sure way

of pure, and endless being,

as I step into the dream and

have no questions, for all

may yet be made ready,

for the chill kiss of dawn,

revealing what has been

born in ebony caverns, those

ephemeral figures creep,

drawn from Akashic realms,

dipping trailing fingers

into the wash of waves;

allowing the drown of

becoming, to release,

bequeath, unknown treasures.

‘What have you found?’

The voice rides liquid crests,

somnolent, searching, sighing,

at the breast of Soul; in

deliquescent dressing drench

of formless, rich potential.

‘I found myself,’ even though

I had not known I was lost.

Evening moon glittering

on strewn harvest of

luscious river weeds, torn

from their beds, and shaken

across the flooded earth,

dressing muddy realms, in

stalk, leaf and frond of now

slow rotting death and life.

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The End

Seconds break from ocean of time,
sculling through foaming minutes,
dragging waves of sodden hours,
thundering into dropped days as

they wash upon life’s sandy feet;
crumbled careering of bubbled
beginnings, and frothing ends,
those months, years and decades

which sluice our hearts from birth
unto death, as seabirds scree and
sing above, darting through puff
of cloud and curious wind, in that

dance of life which has no end,
and yet which, in truth, has never
begun, for all is caught: an eternity
of bright and shining imagination.

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Bend the scent of sanity,

stitch the sail of time,

surrender the archaic;

trip the soul sublime.

Scan the vivid moment,

heat the pot of joy,

slice the sliver carefully;

cherish life as toy.

Follow in the calling,

let the hours shine,

all is an experiment;

God’s world so divine.

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