The distances between us

Nothing dies, as the chimes tell
us it’s another year; a new notch
to mark upon what was done, will
be done. Hope resides in all encounters:

even when heart is heavy, when transformation
seems rare; or a gift unforgiving.

It will come. Yet only when the world is ready
for what you have to share.

We bring to the world the tangled desires and dreams
of our inner spheres; to which we view the world without.

No-one is a victim: experiences raise us on a rising tide,
or drop us to some depths from which we drink.

The world is to taste. Stopping too long to put the distances
between us only makes the taste more bitter.

Let us carry on, as foot soldiers to a greater purpose.
Maybe another year has gone, yet time is a taste on
the tongue that we must learn to like, or swallow hard.
Hope lasts for as long as the heart does hunger.

The biggest secret

It’s the world’s biggest secret
and they’re not telling you:
how sweet it is, and so strong

it’ll blow you away. It will detonate
you like an alchemical nuclear fusion.
You see, it’s not what you think it is,

and you’ll never guess it. Not in a lifetime.
I’d like to tell you, to pass it on. But it took
me so long to get here I’m keeping it for myself.

You see: the secret protects itself, and you’d do
the same if you were in my shoes. So what will you
do to get into my shoes: are you after the world’s biggest secret too?

All together now…

Out of the mangled mesh our psyche weaves
we have this: our terrain, tract of land, sphere,
that extends from our bodies to reach far,
effusing into all crevices, holes and crannies.

What we think becomes forever known; stored
in halls, records, in other member’s minds as
mimetic lovebugs, or parasites, that pass on
in murmurs, praises, deeds, and stone –

nothing is left out, untouched, or forgotten.
All comes back into our global blood, our
woven air, our hybrid rituals. We feed upon
the crumbs of existed moments, yet pushing

to collate, include, that history which serves
us best, serves us worst. So all together now,
we share the paranoia of our times, infesting
us unruly. When will the Gods come to flush

us out of our trench, like a chariot of Goddesses?

In flux cognito

I cannot clear my head
around the complexities of a life
still to come.

As does nature’s children welcome each renewal,
I search within endless flux for a way through:

unstable knowing,
broken pieces,
love connections,
embraces within virtual spaces,
war within psychological places,

I seek a way through this web of endless embrace.

We are all here for some end purpose:
to have within some gain to fill us as we watch
a flame that dims at the end of the days,
that does not drag us into emptiness
but fills, cries out loud our living.

In instability do we yearn so deeply
for our claim, our meaning.