It dawned on me today how half of my life had slipped away, on auto fill as the web shapes and takes, as we lose more of our self to an ever growing internet.
To the who's who of no one true, that you will never meet or kiss their cheek, or share a drink at a late night bar, but share an argument from afar...
Keyboard flares sent across the net to someone you have never met, who's hiding behind a Qwerty shield and to them that screen is very real!
Or the stars that shine so bright on the browser that's just full of *****.
When shites tupence an ounce and they're worth sweet FA..
But you had to know what they ate today.
Not worth ***** and it's valued more yet they seem like royalty to the poor
So when it dawned on me earlier today that half my life had passed away..
I held a moments silence then, for the passing off the world that's real and those around us in the flesh..
Because it isn't real it's all a place made of one's and zeros to Infinity that will outlive you and me..
So before the rest of life flies by, unplug your mind from the digital hub.
Put the tablet in the drawer and leave the phone till you make a call.
Then call someone that you miss, and tell them that you love them still.
Tell them of your thoughts today and not what you were fed by the internet...
It dawned on me today, tomorrow will soon be yesterday so make the most of the here and now, when it's gone it's not backed up on a card or drive to bring back up when you desire.
Just in memories, that's all, that's it.
Not this internet of ****.

Buds pushing up and the dew of night still hanging from them as each morning they show some more of their beauty. The grass now growing again after it's winter sleep. Mornings brighter and bird song at 4am. Wet shoes as we walk through the field as the night still clings to each blade of grass. The moss now dying on the pourous headstones and staining the rock beneath.

Warm sun and a lush canopy of every green, eyes squinting through sunrise, the smell of fresh cut lawns and the smell of barbeque coals soaked in juices drifting from the gardens nearby. Late evenings and children playing till the street lights glow. The sound of foxes barking as I try to sleep. Out gathering and walking the paths I walked.

Dried leaves crushed underfoot, announcing the change of season as the nights come sooner and the sun loses it's heat. They are the days I will remember most of our autumn. As a temporary death comes to the place of death. The umbrella of multicoloured beauty falls in the breeze and blown to dance like spirits. The last flowers dried and decaying, Rain becomes colder the foxes no longer bark.

The leaves now gone, trees naked and cold. Redundant nests tossed in the wind and decay all around above and beneath the ground. Only the sparce laurels and holly show any green. The grass covered in a thin layer of white muddied by feet passing through. Not as idyllic as a Christmas card or calender. But this is my place. Where my best friend sleeps. The daily walk with my dog. My solace. Often my only peace, my only escape. Now, I share it with you.

Reminds me of this..

Oh they have always been there.
Watching in the shadows, waiting.
Playing the long game.
At the supermarket, just out of sight in the next isle.
Two seats back on the bus, not too close.. But near enough.
Like a shadow in the shadows.
That stranger you see when you close the curtains..
Just waiting...
Till you invite them in.

There was a widow who volunteered to clean the pews and dust the knave. All the jobs done in the church for the love of God in her spare time.
In summer time she cut fresh flowers, from the garden her husband tended now departed, to brighten weddings and communion masses.
She arranged them for mass each week but no one noticed who she was, just the cleaner in the shadows, thanked each week in the vicars sermon.
She had lived in that village by the church all her life, schooled and raised and married there, it was in many ways her church, her life revolved arounds its works as nothing else was left.
Then came the day she passed away and the funeral mass came and went. At the mass were very few, just the older Parrish folk and the fifth vicar she had known who sent her to her heavenly home.
As to her home here and all her worth, she left it to her local church the church she loved as much as God himself, her church from birth to death.

Crashing on the drums of the ears with the rhythm of madness and the force of hate with the colours of night as they scream of justice with no idea of why

If you could feel the earth's heartbeat would you care more about her?
Do you not feel her breath and see the rivers of her tears?
Do you not feel her tremble when you hurt her?
Or was she always dead to you.
Did you not see how she protected you while you hurt her?
You cut her and she bleeds, yet still gives to you.
But like your real mother, mother earth is dying.
But you will not be able to mourn her death.

One day you realise you love someone. You just know. That's it, no warning sign, no guide, just BOOM! A feeling that turns your whole world inside out and upside down. Fire from your belly that won't be calmed. Like Mother Earths polarity changing ends. They become your North and South. A friend becomes a lover and in that magical moment the way you see the world has changed. Because you share their vision. Then in a flash they have the keys to your soul and can walk through its corridors as though it is their own home. Use or abuse it as a trespasser.
In that moment you have no more armour no chainmail. No mask to hide behind. They hold your secrets and all your vulnerabilities. You gave them away like candy. You place your trust in an asassin that has your very soul to nurture or destroy.
For some they will spend a lifetime there and help you grow and heal, love and laugh.
Others simply use it as a space to rent then destroy everything that you built together on leaving.
They take more than they ever gave. Trust, love, light and more.
All they leave is desolation and fear. Damage that often can't be repaired and a hopelessness that builds walls and shuts out love like it is a poison.

Why would anyone try love again?