Spinning in the Dark

In the silent sacred corridor, footfall after footfall down the pitch black hall

walking blindly, walking forward towards the neon sign, says "exit," illumination in

the dark. Breath is held in the air of suspense, still, silent night as I reach for

living waters. Renewal at the spigot of faith, renewal in the silence.

Dusk till dawn in the dessert I roam, wandering barefoot in the cool sands.

Silence is eminent, silence surrounds, silence on earth and in heaven abounds.

Brilliant darkness, radiant dark, interspersed with pinpoints of light,

unsteady on the top of the world, I reach for a hand that is not there and stand

spinning, thirsting for still waters.

Sleeping

At this late hour, darkness, like a silent friend awaits, awaits each flip of the switch, each click of the mouse, to turn off the distractions of the universe, to get reacquainted with eternity.

Eternal sleep, silence awaits, as your eyes close in circadian wonder and you are surrounded by the figments of thought that flicker through your mind, sometimes leaving you more confused than peaceful, a world where the sense of sense is senseless and your impassioned speeches are heard, or disregarded as the masses walk or your loved ones flit silently through your mind; each falling victim to your fears or your hopes in the wee small hours in your deepest sleep, remember that your impassioned speech may bring you to tears, but was never heard.

Secret Longings

Secret longings

For shadows filtered, resplendent over high peak, emerald hills and azure sky.

Awakening to breath in the air of humanity, to taste the sweetness of baby’s head on my shoulder, gentle whispers, and the outstretched hand of long ago laughter, now come to drive me home again.

Joy in the flit of the butterfly’s wings, winds over sweet blossoms, a veiled smile upon my face as I remember the invisible drafts that I would float upon in fantasy.

These wide open spaces, wondrous sanity found among evergreen boughs and scented wind.

A silence pregnant with expectation, the possibilities found in the reverberation of strings seeking fingers, whilst this dreamer plays upon the full atmosphere of spirit found amongst the crevices of broken hearts and lonely ears.

To reach out and stroke the soft fur of kittens, an image of sweetness as they have yet to be born, their friendly mother my noonday companion.

Sweet water fresh from the filtered stream, through rugged mountain peaks. A taste left on my tongue, ephemeral sweetness, a reminder that there is soul in everything. Still waters in my cup, somehow missing that wildness.

Longing for friendly darkness, soft grasses to lay upon and gaze out at the stars in wonderment as the fresh wind blows through my hair and the silence of crickets in their hidden hollows reminds me of sweet dreams to find.

Secret Longings

Secret longings

For shadows filtered, resplendent over high peak, emerald hills and azure sky.

Awakening to breathe in the air of humanity, to taste the sweetness of baby’s head on my shoulder, gentle whispers, and the outstretched hand of long ago laughter, now come to drive me home again.

Joy in the flit of the butterfly’s wings, winds over sweet blossoms, a veiled smile upon my face as I remember the invisible drafts that I would float upon in fantasy.

These wide open spaces, wondrous sanity found among evergreen boughs and scented wind.

A silence pregnant with expectation, the possibilities found in the reverberation of strings seeking fingers, whilst this dreamer plays upon the full atmosphere of spirit found amongst the crevices of broken hearts and lonely ears.

To reach out and stroke the soft fur of kittens, an image of sweetness as they have yet to be born, their friendly mother my noonday companion.

Sweet water fresh from the filtered stream, through rugged mountain peaks. A taste left on my tongue, ephemeral sweetness, a reminder that there is soul in everything. Still waters in my cup, somehow missing that wildness.

Longing for friendly darkness, soft grasses to lay upon and gaze out at the stars in wonderment as the fresh wind blows through my hair and the silence of crickets in their hidden hollows reminds me of sweet dreams to find.

Electronic Colosseum

Listen to the pulse of the world, listen.

We collectively bow before idols, or recline, however the case may be.

Obfuscating our thoughts with the drone of the gods, drone on gods, drone on.

For we have forgotten what used to be,

Men standing firm, feet planted in the earth, their muscles rippling with exertion.

Women, capable women, given to thought and reflection, peaceable ways.

Builders of society, they knew God,

out in the elements, they knew who they were.

Dignity, goodness, uprightness, upheld.

What stands for societies gods now?

The obliteration of others, laugh at the idiots.

The degradation of all, for nothing is sacred.

How quickly do we fall?

Crowds gather, vast crowds

climb high to your seat,

sweat trickles down your face in the heat.

Collective excitement as the gates are lifted,

a gasp as the lion is released.

Then the slave standing,

ebony shining in the sun.

A battle to the death,

and who questions why this is?

Man against beast, man against man

Fascination

Battles are still fought before masses

battles for dignity, battles for sanity.

How entertaining, to see people fail.

Are we all mad?

The Romans are still alive...