this evening the thunder of the sea is a wild music filling my ear...
you are leaving and the ungrieving winds demur:
telling me that nothing returns as it was before,
here where you have left no mark upon this dark Heraclitean shore.
Heraclitus said we can't step in the same river twice, because it won't be the same river and we won't be the same either. Everything is in a constant state of flux, thus "nothing returns / as it was before." Lovers who part will not be the same people if they reunite later.
As I wait In the night's cold The echoes of rain long gone I fall back Sweet reactions And sweet smiles Evoked by the idiosyncrasies of life, All genuine Whilst my heart Congeals the idiosyncratic nature of My exterior With my interior.
Duality, A concept irrevocable. In it's amalgamation, The force of its flux Is unsettling. And in my unsettled ease Where does that leave me?
See how the colours shift - with each fractional adjustment I'm met with a 360 revolution emblazoned horizon to horizon a panchromatic world of beauty in a constant state of flux, with variations, both major and minor, circling round with each marginal movement of my creator's hand.
Our fragmented lives can be a thing of beauty. Just gaze and take it in.
Dawn of change It is always so Endless dusks and tides Breaking against star-foam. The law of all-things We long to forget Is that everything passes Time devours all And humble humanity Tiny upon the floating rock Is no different To the dust and gas Of deep space. We may quail At our transient destiny We may shudder At our fleeting fate We may lament Our lack of infinity But to do so would be To stain the sacred present And forget the true nature Of you, of us, of her, of me.
Were you given a star at school for good work? a smiley face, very good or well done was a perk I took all of these smiley faces into my soul guaranteed for life to sustain my future role
Remember how art caught you out - I made a mess and yet disaster was suddenly made good - more or less now, woodwork led me to a great cutting edge being allowed to take home my work was a privilege
metalwork taught me that flux was softer than butter the words that arose within me - if only I could utter mathematics made me figure things out - nothing I would lack but when the master saw my red socks - he said: 'Get to the back.'
Then there was English - the best language to swear in, such great enlightenment and depth will never come again