Life is a curious thing;
as fragile as glass,
as precious as gold.

Spun slowly from a thousand strands of silver
spider web.
Sewn and patched together from
old clothes,
by the sorrow-sweet whistling
of the wind.

Made in
a shell
that a child has placed against his ear
to hear the sea.
Made with
Sea foam
and Mermaids’ songs
and Rocky cliffs
and Storm and Lightening
and Laughter.

Nothing more than
a fluffy white cloud
which gradually turns greyer
the further Time carries her lantern
across the sky.

Beautiful,
delicate,
Unique,
perfect,
simple,
present,

so
­amazingly
solidly
Dreamlike.