Reflections


The sky, a perfect white, a blank canvas waiting for the sunset to give it life.

Rain falling, creating puddles, creating reflections, some reflecting the world in a good way, others reflecting it as bad.

But some rain falls on the leaves of an old tree, craggy, withered from age.

These few droplets, are like the eyes of a child, looking all around at once,

they capture the world, seeing everything,

the good and the bad, yet still seeing the true beauty of the world in that single moment, before falling to the ground below, into the puddles, which reflect the world as a black and white place.

The sun sets, painting the sky a vibrant picture that no artist can match, the rich colours making the evening come alive, showing that the world is not black and white nor as we see it, rather it is as it is and is ever-changing.

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Singly Me


Pressure all around.

Reality shrinking round me.

Everything compressed,

All existence and all feeling itself,

Enough power to crush a man,

No end, the beginning has been forgotten,

was there ever one?

As this reverses I begin to cope,

All things and all problems are spaced out,

So it is easier to understand and deal with?