spring sweetens her breeze
and i sing today for the sigh,

delicate leaf,
emotion of the sea,

shimmer
shimmer
shimmer
shimmer

i am far from you
like the beautiful
cherry flower on my tree,

i yearn and yearn,

you called me your bird
and we danced with
wings of fire,

pretty light in a house,

flowers as ghostly as the dawn,

when i say i love,
i love.

the moon treads a path gently woven,
clouds gather their rain and their sighs,

the sea with her flowers  and  sirens
below the grey swag of the skies,


the sea drifts out far like a sail boat,
in love with the sky and the wind,

the wild surging breeze hits its high note,
with all the lights dimmed.


the love that we had lies half buried,
blows as soft as the wind through the grass,

the bird that the sky always carried
a ghost of the air that does  pass  


love squandered, love hungered, devoted,
as jealous as jealous can be,

love frozen forever  emotive,
once prisoned now free.


a love soon believed for its sweetness,
romantic, delicious and wild,

a sacrifice e’er  e’er  grievous,
hearts lonely that once were  beguiled,


muse singing of love now departed,
washed out like a rose in the frost,

waste lovers left soon broken-hearted,
love won and then lost.


love more of dark midnight’s soft flowers
more of twilight and shadowy bones,

death’s minstrel  that sings in the bowers,
kings seated on dragons and thrones,


love open and timeworn , delightful
as seas breathing of cloud bursts and mist,

uncanny, blood-berried,  insightful
and drowned with one kiss.


brought back from where the wild sea wandered
stood out like a bird on the sands,

love guilty, then freed though still squandered,
like courantes followed by sarabands,  


love full of the delights of the morning,
or evening where dark blossoms grow,

where the thunderous waves are still storming
and poetry flows.


wild whispers of love and strong passion,
on the wind that once gathered the storm,

loves whispers once alive and now ashen,
refusing to comply or conform,


the dark of the night finds its firefly,
a star that now falls from the sky,

strange dusk, stranger song than the sea’s sigh,
where the lonely ghosts die.


and love always finds the new morrow,
like a waif of the sky and the sea,

finds sometimes delight or great sorrow,
lives and breathes in the dark memory,


remembers those days once  so gifted,
believed in and lived in and free,

where the swallows broad wings were once lifted,
flying desolately.


love lost and yet sadly remembered
in the last golden pools of the sun,

as the sunset is no longer tethered
by the clouds that still run and then run,


love always of nightfall soft  breathing,
magnolia moons set alight,

love never all lost, now just sleeping,
enchanting  and bright.

boy, i give you a blowing rose,
a glittering star,

the autumn shakes and glides,
hangs on leaves, waters the
sun,

the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost,
where the dark, born
of root and winding dream,
stretches like a flower,

in our love we found a
leafy woodland lane,
we strided the skies like
birds of dream,

love hung from our lips,
the white ribs of the breeze
holding our burning hearts,

love so raw it flowered,
opening out like an origami
swan,

the shadows lengthen,
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.

with their beautiful
yellows and blacks, turning
lion-hearted faces to a
southerly breeze, eyes
focused on the sun,
wedded to god and light,
their suns, a river of
dream,
their moons, the
thin drops of water
hanging on them
like rain on a stain-
glassed window.

when the waves of the sea sang of summer,
wan midnights and flowers beguiled

by a love strong and tender in slumber,
awakening tumultuous and wild,


oh, love, sweetest love, won’t you listen
to the song that the fierce sea sang,

while the desolate waves seemed to glisten
and silver bells rang.


oh, my love, oh, my love, hear the fire
of the love that has blossomed for you,

a song full of want and desire,
and all of its dreams about you,


the wind fires up through the mountains,
the clouds fill the desolate sky,

the waters of earth fill the fountains
and all the seas sigh.


and i never felt love for another
as strong or as passionate as for you,

and my legs longed for yours like a lover,
and forever they’d stay ever true,


up high in the night sky the birds fly
and plunder the sorceress moon,

and love in her waves gives a soft sigh
and falls in a swoon.


the solitary sea starts to whisper,
with a love that n’er knows of a god,

and the mist on the sea-wall grows crisper,
as it dampens the ghosts of the sod,


and love cries out loudly at sunrise
toes dipped in the trembling dew,

forgetting the murmurs of moonrise
besotted and blue.


the wind now no longer seeks shelter,
curves the clouds who now run and then run,

sings of tides full of moonlight who welter
with tears (though no gift of the sun,)


and these tears for my love i now carry
stripped away like the sun and the rain,

our love both soulful and arbitrary,
flowing true in the vein.


the flowers of midnight are calling
like lilies with petals outspread,

on an ocean that dreams as it’s falling,
and falls like an anchor of lead,


the streams lift up high as if dreaming,
the wings of the wind’s edges bleed,

and all of their wonderful streaming
begins to recede.


the sun sung out once to the morning,
unshackled the wings of the seas

who flew as the light started dawning,
as the sea water started to unfreeze,


day more of the morning soon conjured
of magics both dreadful and free

of tenderness’s sweetly outnumbered
like your love for me.



the brightening bird grows to an ocean,
its brilliant wings full of day,

and our hearts sing out loud with emotion,
the clouds float along in their greys,



the light in the sky starts to shiver,
no longer of evening and night,

sings songs of the moon’s lonely river
her lamps set alight.

you told me your love was enchantment,
that the sky would e’r carry my tear,
like a breeze that the southerly wind sent,
that the dusk sent its shadows to cheer,

and the dusk of the dusk was bleak sunset
the moon set to drift from on high,
while spanish eyes laughed and cast out their sea net
to capture the sky.

your love was the shadows of evening
my love all the solitary isles
that dreamt like a lode star soft-beaming,
of your leg or your sparkling eye,

oh, love was your kiss, how i fluttered
like a bird that dreamt e’er of the sky,
or a window now no longer shuttered,
opened only to sigh.

you called me your ghost of the evening
i called you my sweet boy of dream
the moon’s golden note always dreaming,
a dream of a dream of a dream

my love once won all beseeching
your eye as pretty as the sea,
my hypnotic glance always seeking
your love, fervently.

the shadow lark spoke of the night clover,
the morning lark spoke of the sun
my heart yearned for yours like a lover,
hypnotised until its wildness was won,

my love was always forever
no night sky as dark as your eye,
the grey sky, or song of the heather,
my love or my sigh.

in this life fwoah dream destroyed the demons by saying "the magic number is three" aka the livin, aka boz the destroyer, my son's, favourite number. i heard them all blow up like some wild firework display all around the earth for about a month.

you know it's a demon when they start offering you a contract from behind some kind of wall. the trick is not to say anything in response as even saying 'go away' classifies as 'negotiating' which means they can carry on harrassing you. if you do not respond to the offered contract they then have to redo all their maths and offer you a new contract which they will repeat four times - usually the numbers involved stack up behind the name of the new contract which they will repeat 4 times and usually involve the number 4 and the number 7. if you still say nothing they have to leave you alone for 24 hours. expect them to get angry if they have to offer new contracts as they have to work out all their new numbers.

demons were originally fallen angels that bartered for peoples souls. this was all to do with peoples good and evil points which they could trade, but the demons became more and more evil and it was a silly idea anyway to barter with your soul.

question - when do you say the magic number is three if speaking to them classifies as 'negotiation'
the answer is you may say this after you have ignored them for an hour and then they will go up in smoke.

the only other thing you need to know about demons is you can only become a demon if you have *** with one.  

why i am posting this? it is useful information if you are being harrassed by demons and i think everyone should know what to do.

why does saying "the magic number is three work"? the demons can't survive the goodness in saying 'the magic number is three' after all the evil they have done with the number's 4 and 7. remember words are very powerful things.

she wore a dress of silk that day
a coral comb set in her hair
to dress her curls a dark array
all black as night, as cold as air.

a sweet seductress so beware!
no man could ever win her charms
her beauty was a vision fair
a hellish haunt that death disarms.

she walked towards her lover's house
her soul was calling out to him
as quiet as a timid mouse
her pounding heart all silent sin.

for he was flesh and he was bone
and she a ghost, a cold temptress
and in her hair she wore a comb
to match the silk of her blue dress.

so how could any man resist
her ghostly spirit, cold as night
as if the very moon that kissed
the soulful sky that shone so bright

was hunting, searching night for him
her lover waited, knew her near
her ruby lips, the lanterns dim
in distant dreams she would appear.

she wore a dress of silk that day
a coral comb set in her hair
how could she so her love betray?
i'll tell the tale and climb the stair...

the moon a phantom all despair
he shook and then a deathly cry
she cut his throat, this vision fair
and flew from him across the sky.

they buried him beneath a tree
his life that languished at her hand
and now i'll end this fantasy
of ghoulish love in spirit land!

beware the witch, beware the knell
where ghosts do flaunt the midnight cold
for devil's pave the way to hell
and steal the souls that darkness sold.

and i was the enchantment waiting to find you...

when i was a daughter of siam i cried so beautifully at night for my husband's love when i was asleep that i became his favourite wife and he promised to love me forever.

gina’s first ring was called britton which means we can always be the love. it had a melt. a melt is a sweet loop. lionheart made it with all his love for gina. it was everybodies favourite ring for 4000 years.

excaliber was david’s favourite sword. it was made in china by ian. he used the magic of merlin to make it. it is buried deep under london tower. it is under broadwalk but is buried two miles deep. it took 3 years to bury excaliber. but david said we must. to keep the country safe.

dora na found the secret entrance at the tower and the sword. his name now is trevor nelson. he is a good man and will return the sword to lionheart.

lancelot brought the sword to david. david gave him garter of the night. his loyalty was always strong.

ta ma na a la a
i never saw eye more pretty than yours

ta ma a la a tra
my love for you is eternal

ta ma na treeo la
i will never break my marriage vow

to na la o la sa
you were always my king

tassa la ta na sa ma la
my heart cries to the stars

ta ma na la ian
it was always ian

hot, hot sun, golds and yellows,
sky like a tranquil lake,

in the cave-like hollows of the wood,
the smooth leaves glide,

shadows, falling like dark water,
cooled by a wanton breeze,

sink like a gentle flow of air
woven out of breathing silk and the

dim space that catches its breath -
collides with the sun –

hangs dampened branches out to dry.

turkey

su meant the beauty of china
dray meant the time of day
harry was ma which meant
the soverign of the lord.

drays eldest would have been calm
his second peace

sea, soft harbour of summer,
where the breezes drift
and the dawn tide pales like cloud.

summer’s roses bloom
while the dawn tide pales like cloud
and sweet breezes drift.

where sweet breezes drift
the dawn tide pales like cloud, the
rose of summer blooms.

the bright sky is wrapped in
summer, we no longer wait
for flower or ghost,

a miracle of light, the tongue
of the sun flicks like a snake,

the world is gaudy, hung in
petal chambers, where the sky
ripples like a blue pool,

the heat is deafening and blinding
its love a turquoise bird
blasting the earth with
its wings of fire.

with immediate effect it is no longer needed to pass a theory on line test before you take car lessons. it is putting teenagers off learning to drive. when i learnt to drive the test was not needed. it is better they learn as teenagers when aptitude is highest. i would like dvd made by government for people starting to drive 3 hours long with best practice advice.
in reality only 7000 a year are passing test youngsters do need to drive to keep dealerships and car manufacturers busy.

spring sings her new song, and the hail and the frost and the pretty flowers open all their windows and doors. my poetry lay dormant as the winter wind. as the last storm and gust carries the poetry to a new morning, love finds me, love finds me.

90 foot square is minimum legal size for new property in britain.

all future building in uk for council houses is moss norton.  these houses cost 1 million each and are thatched.

we will be assessing who needs nice houses at the moment with the housing department who are to look at all logistics.

asama to fund from asama of china.

400 to work in housing under tarry hart under asama

jealous boy,
the moon fits
well in her old clothes,

your love full of
sighs, full of dreams,

when i touch your hair
how the world spins!

you are my ******,
my sweetheart,

sunken like a falling star,
i love you more than the sea,

tonight, jealous boy.

i've not written for a week.
i need to visualize, feed
on an image, grow out of
immense distance, slumber
on the rocks.
i need to paint a flower
in all its frailty, gather
the skies on the horizon.
until the bright lilies
have drowned me in their
white linens i will not feel whole.
gathering, gathering the world,
its moments stormy rooks.

our hair has all its pretty hair of air, wine reds, platinum blondes, honey blondes, golds and light browns, gold highlights and low-lights, blues and brunettes.

they can never steal our colour.

we are allowed to have all of our pretty hair.

the star of the star of the morning
is restful and tranquil and free

the star of the star of the evening
blossoms dark as a shadowy tree,


the waves drive out far in their rivers
as blue as a star in the sky,

and the darkness relents for her shivers
must finally die.


waves turning and burning and dancing
clouds wandering e'er ever on

and the darkness that finds the new morning,
as cold as stark night's bitter song,


oh, brother who wept for my sisters
no tears as alive as their breath

swept out where the wild sea blisters
and pain knows of death.


wild whispers, wild birds and the fury
of waves that sing out to the clouds

the death then of life that we bury
laid out in the whitest of shrouds


the sea, oh, the sea, how she sings me
a song of a dance never sung

and her rhythms soon calm and placate me
her bell solemn rung.


and sweet love is the journey i strive for
as blue as a mysterious sea

and the love is a fruit full of succour,
and the moment will live e'er free,


you stand tragic as a painting so mournful
alone as a poet who rests,

and the lull of the storms here at night fall
the sea's treasure chests.


the day wraps the night in her roses
and night wraps the day in her sight

and midnight's soft moonlight supposes
that day is a journey e'er bright,


and love was a love still forever
and love had no rose in her bower

for the floor of the sea like a feather
the most delicate flower.

grey stone sky, ghost clouds crying to the wind,
remembering the distant wave.
the moon was the whitening mists of time,
was the quiver of a musical note,
her broad branches silver seas,
her caverns quiet visions of light.
i stride the shores of oblivion where
dark ages hide, where the ocean falls,
i capture infinite moons in my
mouth, capture something bright,
something of you that i bless,
something of you that grows out
of the dark, glimmering like a night frost,
midnight stars dipped in a clear lake
and as the surface gleams and reflects,
how the water ripples in little blue tides.

i stood there waiting like a
nettle with the moon's forget-me-not
eyes, wild flowers overflowing
down the little paths, i was the flower that
no one wanted, a black companion
****.
my cherry mouth was built of
forgotten orchards and swallow's wings,
while my hair was blown by the indigo wind,
the moon tap, tap, tapping on the door.

the whiteness of the land, the colours of
winter and how her song arose out of
the dark, bearing my soul like the
earth rediscovered, glistening in the
light, drawn out of hollows, the shadows
driven back, with a dry root's crazy thirst
that left me longing for rain.
the poetry could not quite free itself
from my lips, dragged me down to
the earth where i staggered with
the lost and the weary. i tried to get back,
but all i could do was sink into the frozen waste.
no, the poetry would not free itself, and
still i waited but it didn't seem to matter
now because leaf and moon and the
frosting that covered my body had left
me like a pale ghost in the wilderness
and all i wanted to do was sink into
the cold cornered night, sink and forget.

the night’s stones weigh
heavy like the cloud.

everything sinks.

the cry of a bird like
the shiver of a stream,
water-thick, eerie as
a ghost.

the heady scents of the night
speak of surrender,
of lost horizons,
of windows flung
open to the stars.

a cat wires his claws to the
dark, drops down from a wall,
lands with his fur full of sky.

moon, bright lamp
of grey,

sky, open and brave,
colossal dream of
drifting love,

sweet journey of
the night, lifting
her pretty head,
worn and unholy

like the falling petals of
the stars.

i see your stars, glazed
and fearless, glistening
like a spectrum

and i understand wonder,
that life is that sharp intake
of air.

"when everything is washed out like faded jeans"

i thought i could stay alive
but there were shadows on my bones,
summer fell through my lips
and washed the colours from my shirt.
i became a lizard in the
dry heat.

the sky layered greys into
clouds, told me how
expressive it could be
and then turned white.
i wasn't going to argue
but i liked it better blue!

when your heart is
full of softness it gathers
the flowers of dusk.

the sea is so far from me
now, how can i remember
a wave or the bluster of
the wind?
i am as forgetful of
shape as foam, i am
as broken as driftwood,
i am the memory of
something that never was,
an impromptu impressionist
painting in ink.

ta ma sa la la na a
the stars believe in the waters

a mama lul
pretty, pretty golds

twa a ma moh
pretty, pretty blues,

sa a ta ma a la na odh,
the tide is blown like a ghost

ta ma la a sa a
and the moon is beautiful

trama da na wa
dancing to her song

ta a mama da la la da ma tra
a golden lantern of softening light

a mo na ta a ma a ta
shivering in the willows of the night

sa ma da a la a
up in the twilight

torro ma a da a lam
down in the sky-land

ta la a sa a la sa
where the silver moss quivers

ta la na la da ma soh
and the pretty streams shimmer as they dream.

the clouds white as white at their edges,
the moon like a gem set in cloud,

the cliffs with the birds on their ledges,
far away where the weary waves bowed,


love strong of wild heart and compassion,
love decent and as gorgeous as mist

that blooms like the waves full of passion
or like lovers that kissed.


dark sky, dark delight and an ocean,
that rushes to the coast on a wave,

dark blossom of the night like a potion,
love always romantic and brave,


gold star loved like the soft song of e’ven
gold star lighting up the night sky,

the night lit as pretty as heaven,
or juliette’s  sigh.


our love once won and then sadly forgotten,
that died in cold februarys frost,

not given time to enjoy the new blossom,
of spring’s pretty blooms quickly  lost,


yet love mourned forever for losing,
a heart like a dragon once slain,

all the passion, the heart-ache, the yearning,
washed out in the rain.

out of the night, the softening rain dripping
from leaves and memories hanging like stars
in a northern sky, everything sank to the sea,
sinking in night and song and silence.
everywhere was still, no climbing to the dawn,
no old ghost singing winter to the sky.
it was time to leave, time for the grey ghosts
to crumble, time for the rose beds to sleep.
the morning dew is the water's flowers,
the early frost is the marbling of the earth,
we're pushed to emptiness by the iron-hinged wind,
melt in caves where the shadows lie hid.
from your hair, the glistening drops of rain,
from the air, the flight of a bird,
terrible and black the dark clouds,
where the night utters vowels its voice full of stones,
and its breath an empty pail once filled
with water and the kiss of the moon.

syria update

ta is the lawful king of syria
it means leader of the pump

kim and simon held it once for china when tafan died at 4 because
china was worried to lose istanbul.
istanbul is given to tafan he leads it well.

kim would like emaculate her sword back. it was her favourite ancient sword it is at tafan museum and says zonderland. it was chinese not african.

the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost
where the dark, born
of root and shaded dream,
stretches like a flower;

the shadows lengthen
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.

first stretch of great wall of china to rebuilt tana to loy

authorised by ian

5000 to work

this will be my wedding present to ian

the sea like some colossal round barrel,
rolling swiftly along with the tide,

as the bright summer waves lost their quarrel
with a wind that had blossomed and sighed,


strange night full of clouds, full of ocean
full of gulls hanging wings on the sky,

while the waves with their depth  and emotion,
must finally die.


waves enchanting and rolling and curling
a sky deep in love with the wave

where the ghost of the moon-tide is haunting,
that n’er found release from the  grave,


the sea with her linens and moonshine
as white as a sheet on a line,

where the wind catches a note of the sea brine,
and your love is mine.


dear lover, our love was a sea tune
that sang out of a love ever free,

as our kisses that delighted the night moon,
brought contentment to you and to me,


our love an incredible fire,
that haunts us from dawn until dusk,

with an ******-like song  of desire
filled with fragrance and musk.


love deeper and softer and sweeter,
love more of freedom than strife,

dark glance full of fire and fever,
fire and fever and elixir of life,


love never cold quenched or forgotten
bold as bold and incredible of flame,

love fabulous, searing  and wanton
love impossible to tame.


there are magics that sweet lovers treasure
there are kisses of love and of light,

and love that is impossible to measure,
carried along by the song of the night,


and jealous our song to each other,
the jealousy  e’er  bittersweet,

the ghost and the sky and the lover,
the rose at our feet.

the sun sings its swan song at ev’en,
falls low like a fortress of fire,

destroyed by a kingdom believed in,
by an army whose feet never tire;


and the sea calls out loud like an egyptian,
her pyramids built out of sand,

her headdress the skies sweet inscription
the cloud’s dark dreamland.


and love is the song that the wave sings,
as the ghosts of the sea start to rest,

and they crash with the chill that the night brings
like a book where a  flower was pressed,


and the waves bloom and die like spring blossom,
sing a song as eternal as cloud,

sing of life, sing of death at her *****,
the sea foam her shroud.

the meadows are filled with wild flowers,
the sky holds the warrior bird,

the rain with her solitary showers,
the moon’s with her pathway all curved,


delight of the sky and the highway,
as dissonant as a dark minor key,

oh, sea, of desire walks her causeway,
from you unto me.  


the moon glitters like an old sovereign,
conjures magics as sweet as the sea,

a song ne’er remembered but forgotten,
in the vaults of our lost memories,


the stars shine like miniature lanterns,
more of lamplight than this pretty night,    

shining clear in their old archaic patterns,
both cheerful and bright.


and the dark speaks out loud to her brother
sings of cloud bursts and moonlight and rain,

and the ghosts of her once ancient mother,
tells us life flows like blood in the vein,


the frosty dark sky with her night ****,
sings of freedom and knows not of slaves,

while the sea as it brims to the far shore,
all filmy, white waves.


oh, darkness, oh, sister, remember,
the fight for the shore is ne’er won,

from  january through to december,
while the wilderness sings to the sun,


the dark has known only of winter,
her battlements rise to the sky,

wait forever for the first songs of summer,
that blossom then die.


for daylight arrives with its flurry,
of bird song and sunlight at dawn,

while the ceaseless, relentless waves scurry,
draw in close with their breath of the morn,


no death could e’er be imagined,
of a sea as eternal as air,

that the scampering wind swiftly maddened,
where the wild rafters swear.


the grasses blow flat on the wetlands,
where the puddles lie hoary and grey,

and the heron sweeps up to the headland
with its wings full of the glory of day,


the wildflowers bud in the meadows,
thick purples and bronzes and golds,

poppies red as the rust of a wild rose,
rufescent and bold.

i ask you how the water cries, how you hold
the tide, the light, the thin light glistening.
i ask you how you bury root and earth,
how you dress the wind, how you carry
clouds in your mouth, how you drift
out of morning's ghosts, sky full,
how you drift downstream taking
part of me with you. i ask and i ask.
why do you not answer me? tomorrow
stretches her wings, tomorrow with her
tremendous oceans of fire, her dark eyes
full of hope while part of me dies.
no furnace could burn like you burn,
every whisper the dark, the infinite dark,
and that little flame hovering like a bird
a paradise higher than stars.

the king of turkey was sa
that means we always want the love
his queen is diana
he wants their ring back
the ring was called the quiet
it has sa on the inside.

sa sends dray to get it from
england

the lochs on the mead
the love on the land
the hope and the truth
the pretty pretty love
the sunshine and the flower
the glass and the glow
the meadows and the lark
the wonder and the blow.

winter buries her flames,
buries whispers of river and leaf,

the sea wraps turquoise into bronze,
everything is full of white bones,

the sky is an illusion of clouds,
her petticoats blue rags,

the day is as heavy as a paperweight,
as brittle as a glass flower,

the light is as naked as the trees
gold could not be more cold,

the sunlight reflects in the snow,
her amber eyes gleam,

nothing flows, nothing flowers,
nothing flows, nothing flowers,

and your smile is the sun,
a ghost as faint as watercolour,

the brush dipped in daylight,
a little part of me.

out of the water, the water of ghost pools,
you rose, naked figurehead, oh, flower of night.
an impressionist's brush shook the water
like light reflected on moonstone.
****** of prisms, flowering, flowering,
lost ocean of star voices, forgotten star.
you sang and the night ran towards the sea,
you blossomed and the night became a wanderer.
nectar of the gods, sky-visionary, you sink into
the night like the petal of a rose, the grass almond-
eyed and whispering to you her dreams, fluttering
like a butterfly; little moonflower, you gather
the shadows and the song of the dark, the
drift of the clouds is your bare feet running,
the drift of the clouds, the cold sea crashing
in the harbour, the drift of the clouds,
the incredible overflowing of sky, poet-
ink and straying hair, the drift of
the clouds, everything that scatters
like you on the wind.

you wrap the stars around my shoulder blades
place the night on my lips, listen for summer
and whisper day-moons and gothic hills,
bend like the willow dreams of old, sad songs.
your ghost is the rhythms of a sigh,
is a planet stunned by the dark-lashed sea of skies,
an enigma where the pools empty turquoise
and topaz, where we fall - how we fall.