Rumbling, pouring, cascading streams of time,
Roaring, rushing, unseen by eyes of mine,
So do all these crashing dreams align,
With stars and streams and foamy brine,
That roar and crash like waves, unseen,
On beaches distant and serene,
Across the gulf of starry night,
Those streams that roar, cascade, alight.
Third recursion:
beyond wastes
writer sets pace
scratching pen
line starts again
Fourth recursion:
beyond wastes
writer pace
scratching pen
starts again
Fifth recursion:
wastes
pace
pen
again
beyond meandering wastes
writer sets frenzied pace
scratching words fountain pen
each line ends starts again
beyond the meandering wastes
writer sets a frenzied pace
scratching words fountain pen
each line ends it starts again
far beyond the meandering wastes
a writer sets a frenzied pace
scratching words with fountain pen
as each line ends it starts again
I am a drawing,
Of a photograph,
Of a man,
Inside a star,
Inside a cloud,
Surrounded by chaos,
Inside a picture frame,
Floating in space.
I think,
I feel,
What thing is this?
It is an honour–
To exist?
And yet I wonder…
Wander home,
From this place to another roam,
And still I try to understand:
What is this?
Why do we even bother?
Because there always is another,
To replace us,
Always is,
Another,
Another,
Will exist,
And they will also,
Writhe and fight,
And have those moments of delight,
And then like fire burning low,
Depart,
For life is but a fading glow,
Why,
Why,
Why?
Perhaps we’ll die,
Before the answer dare reply,
Why,
Why,
Why?
Let demons try,
To distract,
To turn my eye.
Why,
Why,
Why?
A pointless question.
To live apart from “why” is the lesson,
Lessen,
Worry less,
Not more,
The world will turn again I’m sure,
And chances are you’ll still be here,
In spite of all those churning fears,
And up against it all you’ll rise,
Like flames rekindled,
Sparks-in-eyes,
Why,
Why,
Why..?
To try.
Feed, Fuel, Forge, Fire;
Shape a sword from your desire.
Whet the blade and make it sharp;
Enough to pierce a demon’s heart.
I know a place not far from here,
In fact: you’ll find it’s rather near.
Strip away the reality you see,
And you’ll see the reality that belongs to me.
