As the water ripples,
you shed a layer
dropping the thoughts
of many a night.
A lightness starts
as breathing eases
and all is restored
with water’s kind healing.
poet
Truth
That yes was yesterday
for the new dawn brings
a self that wakes anew
where something has shifted,
unnoticeable to the eye
but rooted deep within,
brimming with questions
rising up and through.
Disconnect
Yet, here we stand
with rules on rules
of how to love
and be loved.
Imposing limits
on that which is limitless.
As we confuse
what should be free,
turning a gift so true
into something
so confined.
You
All that you are
is an addition,
a simple bonus
that’s nowhere
near simple.
You and I
What words we use
to try and define,
how we explore
one point to another,
and to understand
that I am not yours,
nor you are mine.
We simply glide,
side by side
for a moment in time.
Good Night
Who are you to know
the insides of me?
Why should you see
the thoughts that filter through?
You’re nothing but
a passing moment.
Already prepared
with a goodbye speech,
how the night was fun,
but now the sun has risen.
Essence
To the moon,
to the stars,
to the sun,
to the earth.
We feel, we fight.
We love, we hurt.
We heal, we learn.
We make a mark,
unique to the soul.
Blessing those we touch,
with our laughter and our life.
Rising with our hopes,
falling with our demons,
believing with our faith,
embracing all we can.
With laughter, with smiles,
we say goodbye,
with memories made well,
and legacies that live on.
To the moon,
to the stars,
to the sun,
to the earth.
Alive
With the dawn, we rise.
But it is with the night
that we come alive.
Our true self realised
with dreams fast escaping,
seeping into reality,
becoming just a memory,
faster than we are ready.
Body
A stranger, yet so familiar.
Unwanted, yet encouraged.
A change, not thought forward.
A curve, placed uninterrupted.
A reflection, so slightly altered.
Empty
Slightly burnt, with crusts a little too thick.
The last of the butter, evenly spread.
A little sweeter, perhaps? Too bland otherwise.
Is there anything left in the cupboard?
Jam, marmite, lemoncurd?
Maybe the marmite.
Some will hate but others will love.
They’ll say the taste is too strong.
Lingers.
They’ll have their opinions. They’ll say.
But still they will take, despite their talk.
And when there’s nothing left, they’ll move onto the next,
leaving nothing but a few crumbs and an empty shelf.
