Sunshine on an autumn day, then wet and windy
The smiles of a new born babe, and the clock strikes three
The comfort of fresh baked bread,  but fresh out of cheese
Melodies holding beauty, until tambourines

Is nothing sacred?
Is nothing enthralling?
Is nothing worth sacrifice?
Is nothing worth fighting for?

I clench my battered fists
I shift the weight of sword and shield
I feel the press of brothers in arms
I cheer in chorus
I know the answer
It has always been, 'Yes!'

I left my other soul
in my late marriage
I'll be more careful with this one

I keep my spare soul
safe with my neighbour
in case I lose this one

My old soul has worn thin
allowing in the cold
but also the sun

My first soul was reliably robust
This new one feels more fragile
and needs holding with care

My soul and I buried our differences
We now spend time focused
on what we have in common

Do not rise gently into the dawning light.
Young bones should relish the pause before break of day.
Let your teenage bones embrace what remains of the night.
Rage, rage against the alarm of light.

Find what you love
Live it, hold it like a long note
Behold it like still-wet art
and it becomes beauty to you.
It becomes magical.
Like family.

Decision to leave
Permission to enter
Right to remain
Hope for peace

I practice the art of receiving art
Not grasping it , not seeking to utilise it
Rather relax-sitting, receiving it
Recognising God's gifting of it
But happy to let it rest
where I can better meet it,
just beyond my practiced insight.