Within you is the power
To rise above any situation
May the positive energy
Of the universe surround
You and flow through you
Bringing
Peace to your mind
Love to your heart
Calm to your spirit
And happiness to your life

He died knowing how beautiful the stars are
Yet without the tongue to form the words
He died watching the beauty of a spring storm
Yet without the hands to paint them
He died hearing a young woman speaking prose
To the man who held her terribly close
Yet he was without the mind to put it to strings
To place it in the bells of the brass horns
He died with a broken heart
Though never held by anyone
He was without the voice to sing it out
As a wailing shout and have others call it honest
You see the fatal crime was not a mundane life lived to death
But rather death laying on a man ever since he was a sickly kid

It is not known from where a reaper comes
But perhaps it is from an artist, dead, before he ever lived

When she wants something
She can be quite determined
My wife
She wanted to be a human cannon ball
So I watched from a safe distance
A double-decker bus
Roof removed
Filled with water
Had been provided to land in
With a splash
She missed and landed with a crunch
I knew it was a bad idea
Do you dream funny?

How  do  the  tourist's
know  I'm  local.
They  are  always  stopping  me.
And  asking  the  way  to  the  lake.
Perhaps  It's  because
I'm  walking  on  my  own.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Borderlines
        of love and lust
crossovers from uncertainty
                 to trust
How we travel
vast countries
in search of living
We forget that taking in
                           is also giving
We strive to reach
and forget ourselves
our process breached
                 in heaven's wells
And I am drowning
                in this murky sea    
submerged in this place
                 of mystery
Sometimes darkly
Sometimes bathed in
              sweet strata of light
Sometimes wrapped
                closely inside
gentle tendrils
of night
All the while speaking
the language of
       awareness and fire
my words heated-up silk
dripping molten desires
I throw to the winds
relics of ancient spells
conjure my heaven
          to chase out the hell
Polish off the dust
and shake out my soul's fabric
         air out my cells
Fill them up
          with new magic
And as I continue
      to break down these walls
         and spin off into
the astral spheres --
    I do my best to emulate
picking ripened fruit,
plucking sparks
         from the cosmos
so I may live
without
fear

as i hug your body close to mine,
i feel my grasp tighten,
and my fingers clutch at folds of fabric.

this goodbye will break me.
you're the only thing holding me up,
and the second i let go i will crumble.

how could i become so dependent,
on you,
on this single soul?

be strong, they say, be fearless,
because fear is the enemy.
i ignored them.

but as i stand here,
holding you in an embrace for the last time,
every ounce of me is filled with remorse.

i regret not doing so many things,
simply because i was too afraid to.
fear was the enemy.

lessons learnt far too late,
my courage only now found.
but you're already gone.

The tree was split
By the power of an unknown spear.
That night, the orange moon flared;
The blinking eyes of night
Shadowed the forest,
Following him.
What authority clapped the thunderous air
With flailing branches,
Demanding service, obedience, fear.
The simplicities of home and fire
Offered up assurance and warmth.
He returned to think on it;
To resolve questions with more questions
Before sanctifying the place of wrath.