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Chrysalides burst,
obsidian pinions wilt,
twilight drowns in dusk.

I AM making all things new!
Even you: this is so true.
Open up and lift your eyes to see,
The savanna stretched out before thee.
New paths to trek, destinations big and small,
Bring out the globe, give it a twirl,
place your finger down, and embrace wide all.
rhythmic simple words
a plough gouging the earth

a song on lips of plough horses
seed to sleep in the dark

looking forward to celebration
after rain and mantra

after sweat and woman
a man and child

the womb of wombs
the universe, gives birth.
Rows of forgiveness
fallow in winter
Waiting for summer
their treasure installed

Leftover morsels
heated in darkness
Sating the hunger
  of those who are called

Seeds from the past
replenish the future
Buried salvation  
awaits in the ground

Fasting on yesterday
feasting tomorrow
Waiting for supper
— when dinner bells sound  


(The New Room: February, 2025)
In the morning,
As I wake up ,
My bones creak,
I grapple for my ears from the drawers,
My teeth from a dainty cup,
My eyes lying beside me,
I  grin and say
I am blessed,
I am still young at heart,
Go baby go.
19/2/2025
Is not for sale,
Every moment is precious.
19/2/2025
are when your fingers are peeling
and bleeding
but you still reach into the ***** water

to do what you can
Tolerance
Doesn’t speak loud enough
It doesn’t defend itself
It simply exists
Quietly
Mid-sentence: this story can go either way,
Doom and gloom, or full of joy.
Hold your nerve, believe in happy endings,
There’s a bigger story; written from a far but lived out day-to-day.
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