Lizzie Lum

Through you I lose myself
That, which is everything and nothing
All at the same time
...

Brave hearts
dare to die their truth
Young hearts
virginal by youth
...

The first echo of you was the hard split and groan of falling timber
Before I found you there labouring lugging logs all boyish and burly
Arms strong like trees your tawny hair wilder than the forest’s foxes
Wood piled higgledy-piggledy atop the trailer to spark off the revelry
...

Truth. The speckled egg
No separating its substance
You have not the extravagance of telling just a fleck
Nor merely exposing some part of pale ashen shell
...

Suspended in a sacredness behind the export of our troubled minds
Beyond the hums of our heads and hot pulses of mortal veins
It lingers tolerantly, a timeless and patient custodian of the world
Mocking our darling masquerades but observing them lovingly
...

You slouched on a hard plastic chair outside my room
Head low, shoulders hunched, looking sullen
Your voice one of indifference over the phone
But there you were. Punctual, waiting patiently
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We hear the chimes.
For in the mist we stand
shoulder to shoulder
clutching for comfort
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You asked me how I picture it all
those panoramic dreams
carved, chiseled and chipped
crafted with my imagination.
...

And then it came.
When we least expected it
one week in July
hitching a lift
...

As I humbly kneel, yielding before the altar of refinement
I am bruised but not yet beaten
Conscientious to expand
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We all huddled around and lit a cigarette,
as rigid and stiffened as the old frosted village
we puffed less agreeably than those chimney pots
freezing together under the watch of ‘The Whistler’
...

Fragrant coffee christens the new day
Morning sun makes haste, bleaching stone as it goes
Shadows slope geometric on walls stretching into squares
Blushing blooms tilt their heads and straighten stems in pots
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Pity those who play life safe
And never feel the rain
To feel alive it must be said
Sometimes you risketh pain
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Pity those with tainted hearts
who only seek the dark
For only souls who choose the light
will ever glimpse the sparks
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To this day I still cherish those magic mornings spent together
Sleepy bodies stirring one by one under weighty feather duvets
Willingly waking up to the day in various parts of the house
Noses and toes skimming sharp cold edges of grand spaces
...

All of the clouds saunter along like they usually do
Stretched out panoramic across the congenial blue
And I notice those simple fluffy shapes, the symbols
Just rolling by so effortlessly and carelessly it seems
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Bereft by the puzzlement of this outward absurdity
I consider the canvas upon which the whole lot flows
The complete everywhere upon which all things hang
Our entire humanity tangled up together, rolling along
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I won't have to convince myself about you
Nor will I be afraid to perceive with exactness
Fearing that the accuracy of my seeing
Will awaken a sinking disenchantment
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Like solo vessels valiantly sailing through
We’re on our way now. Each and every one
Bows rising and falling in the direction of a setting sun
...

The flurry of each passing moment
Magically holds an opaque world of endlessness
Brimming with possibilities that fill the heavens
Twisting and twirling playfully, teasing
...