Come and see inside my mind
there's strange things of many kinds
twists & turns and alleys blind
& some that stretch past all the sides.
My sway is so wrong
I could mountain a fall.
My laugh is so what
its not matter at all
If some things arise
that don't seem very sure
it's not often wise
to lie flat on the floor,
No longer shall I wear
pain, suffering -
these belong to the ego
If I look to the world with hearts in my eyes
Then surely I'll be intrigued and inspired.
If I touch the world with hearts in my hands
The world is a wide place where we stumble like children learning to walk. The world is a bright mosaic where we learn like children to see, where our little blurry eyes strive greedily to take in as much light and love and colour and detail as they can.
The world is a coaxing whisper when the wind lips the trees, when the sea licks the shore, when animals burrow into earth and people look up at the sympathetic stars. The world is an admonishing roar when gales chase rainclouds over the plains and whip up ocean waves, when people crowd into cities or intrude into dazzling jungles.
Rain Is Falling. Winter Approaches. I Drive Towards It. In The Slow Rain. In The Semi-darkness. Cello Music Is Playing In The Car. The Deep Sad Sound Of The Cello. It Almost Swamps Me. Routine Endeavours To Swamp Me. The Everyday Paying Of Bills.
But I Paint Men Walking In A City Of Icebergs And Crystal. Some Of The Icebergs Are Red. I Paint A Woman Swimming In Green Wavy Water. Surrounded By Desert Mesas. Bright Orange In The Sunlight. With Darker Orange For Shadows.
I am torn apart
by the consequences
of the inevitable -
until all that's left