Silence precedes silence, a vacuum rushes in. I am blown aside, inside, outside without thought. Experimental, my sentimental needs are wrenched by the roots, thrown into the cataclysm of oblivion and her army.

Empty space awaits with open arms and no judgment, a silence like no other, profound in its truth. Quiet is the noise of existence, becoming neutralised by cosmic rays and the earth turning in awe.

Terra Firma sighs, busy with nothing, busy with everything. Holding the line between life and death, between night and day. Solid in her awareness, just before dawn, just before dusk, holding her breath.

Endless is the search for peace, this ultimate state of truth, the deepest sense of self. Yet always waiting patiently, in the space between silence. Ageless, balanced, whole, breathless, void of reason, all absolutes nullified. Awakened, realised, certain, everything can only be, now.

The vacuum grows stronger, I become. Compressed into a sub atomic god of sustainable quantities, unquantifiable, perfect. In this ultimate moment of ultimate moments may I never suffer memory or the sadness of loss in the fragile human mind.

I try to embrace this rebirth yet I shatter, into a million pieces and into a million pieces more, drifting endlessly. Scattered alone, still suffering the pain of existence until eternity grows tired of being.

I am weary of remaining formless in this void of nothing and everything, forever knowing with words but never knowing with being. Dreaming of skies so perfect they melt and Clouds so beautiful they implode on a breeze so gentle trees cry.

Is it here I should forever be, enveloped in natures bosom, almost blinded by truth. Unattached but completely aware that everything,
I am,
is an infinite symphony of perfection,
suffocating in love.

LOVE IS?

Love is like a painting
Each moment like a brush stroke
And life............Life is the canvas

Understand, this painting will never be finished
For it will always change
As the canvas can never remain the same

You must both remember to adapt
Stand back and contemplate
And with new perspective
Your painting, your love
Will remain vibrant and dynamic

This constant vigile
Against the tired eyes of apathy
This gentle persuasion
To the deceptive hand of familiarity
This work in progress
Must never fade, or collect dust
Or live in the cuboard under the stairs

So with this metaphor
May you succed where many have failed
And give hope to those still searching...

BUBBLE GUM

C ould it be possible to contain the truth of this word?
U nderlying all the things in the universe this truth remains
N o matter where you turn, it flows deep within us
T o the end of time and back we remain complete and utter
S oldiers of a dying art, gathering dust in an attic!!