I'm transparent like a window
but I'm prone to keeping curtains closed
to cover up my youthful,
aching, naked soul.

I used to be promiscuous;
my essence on my sleeve.
a charming laugh; a crystal glass
from which many a fool drew drink.

A chalice of life;
warm like cinnamon wine,
soft like angel's delight.
Beheld by every eye.

But it never felt right;
I was smoke off a fire,
yet still smouldering coal.
Just a young, beautiful

byproduct of desire.
There's no smoke without fire.
Although, I tried to fan it cool;
the flames ran only wilder.

But as the old wind blows, it seems
a withered tree still grows new leaves.
A dandelion spreads its seeds
but they lie far away from me.

Now, I move transcluently-
ultraviolet invisible ink-
I speak in soothing whispers;
they travel further than you'd think.

To give up hope is a woeful thing
It leaves the mind an empty skin
With nothing to go around
And pointless visiting.

Love Mary x

.
And I stumble on across the barren land,
the mist, like a shroud, about me swirls,
chipped flint rocks assault my bare feet,
an endless quarry of slate grey, my world.

So the curtain of sadness and submission falls,
covering my mind with an opaque funeral drape,
the hazy images of the isolated and desolate,
forming the features of depressions landscape.

Vaguely felt, the invasion of another waits,
blind and innocent in a palace of real fear,
set free to roam in a strange arid topography,
desperate times pause for vision to be clear.

A stark scene viewed through teardrops frozen,
by ice winds of piercing calamity and despair,
of a place exclusive to the disaffected and lonely,
the last retreat for an exhausted mind to repair.

And this is my world where the haunted party,
leave me be with my cold mists and grey stone,
the frozen tear for a souvenir means everything,
my special gift, the feeling of being utterly alone.



© Pagan Paul (24/01/18)

Death,
an absence of life.
A disconnection of the soul from the body,
The extrapolation of nothingness
The encroachment of cold
The cessation of zest
Betrayal.

zero








         became





                  in the beginning





                                          nothing
­




                                                            ­   0




                                                             ­            s p r e a d  o u t


                                    
                         ­                                                                 ­              nowhere
                                           ­        surrounded by
                                           nothing              everything                  until
                     looking in on      one              zero
                 everything               surrounded by                                    it
             looking out on                        
             within                                                           ­                           bent
              seen from
               that can only be                                                              b­ack
                 a vision
                    from outside                                                          ­in
                          seen                                ­                             on
                               can only be                                 itself
                                      a shape that          became
                                                          ­     1