Star light long scattered.
The ancient story.
Camels, a rope and
The eye of a needle,
The outcome of ancestors,
A glandular slime trail,
Begat, begat, begat, begat,
Superhelical conjunctions.
And what storm of electrons,
How is a neural cacophony,
Choice?
You knew which way I would turn
At the end of the corridor,
Green walls, parquet floors,
Dust tracing the light from tall windows,
Whether I would kiss her or not.
I am a droplet of water
Sparkling with life in the falls at Aysgarth.
Can we be the silver smiths of our own reflection
Or sculptors of our future being,
Every conscious moment,
A shaving closer to our revelation?
And if we are to be heroes,
Heroes of what cause?
Every cause has enemies.
I will champion no enemies.
How can these little steps be so difficult,
What weights are we carrying?
Cast them off.
Run naked.
Throw yourself in the sea.
Let the waves take you.
Lie on English grass
Under a gentle soaking sun,
Splatters of leaf-light and shelter.
What are you?
No one can believe the answer,
It’s too stupid,
Obvious,
Nothing …
What are you thinking?
Silence.
Laughter.
The kind that is nearly mad,
That only your lover hears,
That takes you by surprise,
Shocking.
Joyous.
There were other words but they floated away.
A kiss
Then,
All endings are the same.
