In Thought (day 2880)

My mind has become jagged
A Cliff with one soaring Eagle
Circling around and around
Just beyond eyesight.

Little plants grow here
Barely hanging onto life
Grasping what little Soil
Has fallen between the Rocks.

Barely does a Thought stay
For it’s brother begs attention
Ruthlessly asking for my step
Dare I not pass his way.

So here I step gingerly
Trepid and disoriented
Glancing above me, evermore
Dare I lose a thought.

Distract Me (day 2865)

I am distracted and disgusted
Trapped inside a ritual
I never knew I’d slipped into.
I woke alarmed,
Spoke slowly,
Yet saw no change becometh.
Then there I was: forgotten,
Within myself: outwardly,
Expecting another to change,
Or not to be,
Or be completely..
And I had nothing for my pain
For it was all consumed
By my distraction
Disgusting me.

Reality (day 2862)

Sky has turned on me
I awoke to a burning red
Dazzling my imagination
As fire so transfixes thoughts.
Then Rain began
Challenging my scales
Peaceful summer breeze
Turned torrential squeeze.
I closed the book of a window
To still my worried mind
Losing my touch
With Reality’s closest neighbour.

Winter Depths (day 2848)

I found you in the winter depths
Of my forgotten heart, so bare
That lost me in an avalanche
Succumbed to all buried hurt
To slide away and wait.
Then one cold morning
As I sat alone by my fire
Hardly warming my frozen soul
I heard a voice so low
That whispered to me a secret truth
I didn’t want to hear
That finished freezing of my heart
And under I went for good.

Throat of Life (day 2847)

Wind is howling through this house
Like inescapable tombs of our past
Flesh biting flesh
Wrapped with fabric so dusty it crumbles.

Yet in open webs I can still see through
Nostalgia hits an ancient bone
That even her subtle breath of wind
Finds it hard to escape duty of.

Slowly eyelids close as raspy sun strokes,
A dying ember reminds us each
That our throat of life
Calms the day’s very nature.

At the Margin (day 2842)

It is destruction that has collapsed
Sure it should seem rather redundant
But it was not as it should be
For there were no golden melodies
No silent tigers awaiting at the margin
Long arching stems of tropical plants
Waving ever so slightly in afternoon rain
Slipping noiselessly down the bank
Of misunderstood’s miss-planned and misspent
Margins gone away.