.
As I walk this lonely path
the music plays for me.
Picking at the neat stitches,
the seams of my inner universe.
Somewhere a dam bursts,
a levee breaks, floodgates open.
And vision is impaired by drops
like boulders of rain on a windscreen,
but I have no wiper blades,
just the rims of my wraparounds.
And the music plays on regardless,
ripping through the fabric,
the cushion of my existence.
Control lets go, an illogical absentee.
Millennia creep by as minutes tick.
Sliding through black curtains sight returns,
the shakes pass slowly, rubbernecking shame.
And as the music plays in my head,
I walk the path and treasure the gift
of tears for souvenirs.


© Pagan Paul (2017)

.
Let us linger for a while
upon this sacred mid-stream Isle.

Between the banks of this woodland river,
the flanking tree-scape murmurs peace.
Tinkling drops over pebbles tumble,
eager and away to the sea, its home.
The easy flow of destiny contained
in a dashing continual race.
Birds chatter until the big one shrieks,
its flashing form
diving through the canopy
in search of a mammal to feed its young.
The chorus resumes.
A nervous Doe peeks from dense undergrowth,
constant alertness as she moves,
body trembling in anticipation of attack,
but conquering fear, bends to drink.
Lazy grass and moss so soft
lies underfoot in this magikal place,
the feel and the pull of the earth
brings comfort and peace to the tired body,
tranquility evoked with sight and sound,
soothing the mind with touch and smell,
a sensual cuddle from the Natural world.


© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)

.
The sky hangs heavy, still and sore,
sad, it doesn't change any more.
Maybe the answers are right here,
Not up there with uncertainty and fear.

A voice cries out desperate and loud,
'every silver lining has a cloud'.
Perhaps there are no answers now,
but the future may reveal somehow.

Unmasked and uncloaked, the weary mind,
through the imagery the thoughts unwind.
A storm rages and a light bursts through,
a path, years lost, there, in full view.

Where this leads is mystery unclear,
but not up there with all the fear.
A whole new vista, could be uncertain,
the arduous task of raising the curtain.

© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)

I must've had angels
betting the odds,
rolling the dice,
because I was born
to a world
that's colder than ice,
blessed with a heart
that refuses to fight.
I was given a light
to shine bright
through the night,
to guide those still lost,
wandering
far out of sight.

She used her hands to map me til she saw the screen behold her

dreams. In those perfect moments, I looked, gazed,

fervently glared into the distance from a point that was too far for

her to see. She mapped me til I remembered the first signs of a

storm, how the winds felt. Then, a swift retreat. The winds died,

my skin dried, my ***** raised for rain.

LOVE is what I am made of
And I am made up of YOU

It is the river
That floods me
That flows along
That sweeps my shores
The river is YOU
And I am YOU
The river of LOVE

It is the tiger
That preyed & hunted me
It is the tiger
That ate me alive
The tiger is YOU
And I am YOU
The tiger of LOVE

It is the fire
That consumes me
That ignites passion within
That annihilates me
The fire is YOU
And I am YOU
The fire of LOVE

LOVE is what I am made of
And I am made up of YOU