Dancing with Matches Verse 1

September breeds thick black storm clouds that linger

atop skyscrapers standing on catacombs, screaming

down on that soaked sunless desert, splattered

sprayed and showered in red sludge and cordite.

The dead tree provides no shelter from this pelting,

persistent acid rain of man.

Thunder – tastes of rotting flesh and thorn trees

boomings – marked by gaps of still silence

So loud

It thumps

The chest.

My Nirvana

I love how ants build nests taller than humans build their skyscrapers

I love how creases of pants remind of nature’s constant fluidity

I love how the well worn door knob feels cold, but smooth against my palm

I love the clinking of its latch as it calls out do not enter

I love the stinging icy wind that spins off fan blades in the winter

I love the crackling sound of vinyl as needles bounce Holiday like a printer

I love the way red wine and cigarettes pepper the air like peaceful solitude

I love the spark of reminiscence while adding honey to my tea

I love the networked trees

I love everything

that isn’t me

 

Sunset Meditation

 

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As I witness the most beautiful sunset I have ever experienced

I can’t help but ponder the stilling surreality of this magnificent planet.

The sky is filled with an amazing array of colour –

warm oranges and dark pinks morph into seductive shades of gold.

Streaks of light glow from the same pallet and twist

around mountainous cloud formations

that perfectly compliment the jagged landscapes with which they dance.

I dare not take a photograph

no man-made technology could ever hope

to reproduce something so profound

as this moment

which has arisen in my percept

as if it were gifted to me by my creator

intended to be experienced and never re-lived.

As I take in this incredible sight, I can’t help but contemplate

the seemingly uncanny perfection

of a beautiful life-harbouring planet

floating alone in a cold and desolate solar system.

It dawns on me that we Humans are living in Heaven

and we so often fail to recognise it.

After Life

We are all carried by the living after we die. Existing in reality – the now – through the actions, thoughts and words of the people on whom we have made impressions – manifesting as a quote, a memory or a particular nuance of behaviour that someone close to us has taken and chosen to make it part of them. We are like little seeds of consciousness that sprout and spread and fuse with other forms of consciousness. In the end we are all working together; we are all contributors to the future evolution of life; we are immortal – yet each of us has only a flicker of a match to set our stages.