Who walked along seas-

Who traversed not in fullness of quest,

But of spirit, who swam thoughts

Dived into travesties,

And climbed back out-


Do not fear that you will fade,

Drowned in dredges of time-


Your remembrance is written.


A Single Tear Drop

It all led up to this.
A world against me, bartering with my life,
It drives through me like a knife,
Your years of endless strife,
Black badness grabs me from every turn and source.
I smiled through every stormy mile of my life.
I did not shout,
I showed not feeling,
I did not dare to try.
A crushing weight of dark and light,
Forced me to end this bottled night.
I cry,
A single teardrop,
Filled with my within.
A haze of coloured emotions fills my line of sight,
I crumple to the ground,
I am a broken man…

Ready to be fixed?…

Alpha and Omega

Smelling of an old book, musty with age.

It is a waterfall, falling downward forever, slowing diminishing the things below,

Like the branches of a tree, splitting into many different paths.

Measuring it is as impossible as understanding the emotions of the heart.

Understanding may come, it will just take Time.

My life, forgotten.

When I’m old, will I forget everything?

Everything I knew?

The places I’ve been,

and the people who have shaped what I have become.

What will I remember in my foggy mind?

The loneliness I felt?

Or the companionship I found?

And the end is the beginning, but bitterly so.

Will I remember the the beginning,

the middle or the end?

When I’m old will I…


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.

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?