I overflow, I absorb,
I push, I retreat — and then
I pour it out.
I gave myself names,
So, I took on forms,
Types, meanings,
Traits I had never worn before —
Unlikely mutations.
The end was
The Beginning of Everything.

II
I materialized,
Threading time and space onto myself.
I exploded,
Giving birth and dying —
In multiverses.

III
I budded through fractals,
Creating illogical gravities.
Where there was supposed to be no life —
Angular feelings emerged,
Flattened stars,
Ellipsoidal planets...

Until Human Beings appeared.

IV
Then everything changed.
They began to put me in boxes
Shouting with anger:
“My Faith!”
“Your Philosophy!”

And yet I am everything:
Existence in non-existence,
A colorful flash,
Undulating silence,
A sigh that screams.

V
Drink me,
Eat me piece by piece,
Discover me — but don't defend yourself
Against denial,
Consequences
And mistakes
When you see a wall in front of you.

VI
Don't take yourself away —
Because YOU ARE
Also, in that
In which you sink

Your Gaze

Your Hearing

Your Thoughts.

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                         Because They are Young

                               For Those Who Have Lost Children

The good die young, our blessed children, our hopes
Fresh to this world they wanted so much to explore
They wanted to explore everything – earth, air
Words, water, sky, ideas, music, art, love

All the joys of being; all Creation is their stupa
And they fly the eternal pradakshina
In fulfillment, enlightenment, and joy
Infinitely far, and yet still close to us

We are less because they have gone ahead
Along the happy pilgrimage of faith
But they are more, and they celebrate us too:
They love us and wait for us along the Way

The good die young, and because they are so good
We must strive to be worthy of them

grating continents
edges folded
origami mountains

reaching out, reaching through
a hand to shake, hand to hold
shared moments, shared souls.

Hello, my dear—
it’s been a while.

We lost each other,
found each other,
but I was always here.

Looking back at what we wrote
reminded you
that a path was being built.

But you thought
it was already strong enough
to stand on its own.

Never.

The thing about having a home
is that you’ll always
need to care for it.

Like the blood blister on my thumb
I’m marked by you
Changed from the friction of trying too hard
Over and over again
To light you up and inhale you
My boy of smoke
Lingering always but never tangible
Weave yourself into my hair
Sit in my lungs
Stain my lips and
Keep me
Love me
Breathe me
Bite me