A blur that breathes, growing and abating,
tides of people, entombed in steel,
flowing and fading on riverbeds of tar.
A place of nomads,
all draped in cloth.
A place of symbols,
of concrete and rebar

Sheets of cold, ice grey
Falling spindles, cold rain
A graceful procession
With a bellyful of tears
A dreadful cortège
A heralder of fears

A young forest paved with ancient crushed stones
Nothing left but the inheritance of a thousand unknowns
Nothing left, but old fossilised bones

All that has happened is what I know
And all I know is what will happen.
All that remains is what I know
And all I know is ruin.

I live on a small (25 sq. mile) island, accessible only by ferry.

                                                  <>

“For we are dear to the immortal gods,
Living here, in the sea that rolls forever,
Distant from other lands and other men”

—Homer, the Odyssey (translated by Robert Fitzgerald)

                                                    ­  <>

sea air inoculates the slowing breath-taking ferried voyager,
our landed cares felled, fall into a wake, trailing, sunk & submerged,
a ferry’s ramp contact-clangs, belling a “Here, Here!” alters our mien,
the softening airy enveloping, fragrantly, a greeting of immortal gods

no matter that we can vision-easy the neighboring isles, with
their trafficked-light busyness, the to and fro of mainland life,
bustle necessity of hustle, our riveted river moat cancels out
imposing surround sounds, our untucked flavor, floating free

wafting perfume of quiet inlet, creek and harbour, touch us safely,
alternating currents of gentle breeze, stiffer sailing winds, gusts,
bending us, these reminders, we humans too, creatures of elementals,
water, sun, forest, sand, animals, singular upon co-hosted menagerie

the brackish water, where fresh + marine waters mix, live + die,
reflecting our pooling diversity, so few of us born here, yet so many,
adopt and adapt the isle’s peculiarities, endearing all without any
distinction, we blessed together by Immortal Gods to shelter together,

by, from, the seas that roll us into one peaceful island, nearly, dearly,

and now departed

                                                      ­ <>


Shell Beach,
Shelter Island
August 2021

the first time we met
you were daisies.

fragile
thin
soft
sweet

laughing in rain

running in wildflowers

resting there too

...then you were gone.

the next time
you were roses.

robust
sturdy
reserved
beautiful

running from the world

playing broken pianos

living in empty castles

...then you were gone.

the third time
you were violets.

delicate
cheerful
royal

drinking bitter petal tea

watching stars

dressing in diamonds

...then you were gone.

a fourth
a fifth
a sixth

i find you again
again
again

it's all different
every time.

but you never remember.

not me.

not until your last moments.

...and so it repeats.

eternally

just to become someone
who never get hurts;
i try to become an  i m m o r t a l
who lives long,
without feeling sad
to say goodbye to those
who was once standing by his side

My vivid dream 28th Feb 2020

Since the perception of time, bored ancient malevolent entities; the 'stars makers', have been corrupting our souls with 'want'; Collectively this 'want' forms the material world, which serves to suppress the inner spark; the energy contained within the human soul.

Good souls gradually struggle free from the confines of 'want' or the material world, thus releasing and returning the inner spark to the origin of light.

Dark souls remain within the material world reborn as the 'Dark-echo' continues to expand the physical universe, thus slowly terraforming the multiverse into a single living entity.

Dark matter is the fabric of life, and the womb of our dark souls.

The origin of light is a place of contentment beyond the perception of any fearful, material being; clinging to mortality.

That's why freeing oneself from the confines of the material world, and returning to the 'origin of light, is a leap of faith.

The moon poured over the
       moors
                     and the night-birds
howled                through the wind.
The stars shuddered in their
midnight sky                  and whispered his
name amongst themselves.

He could do nothing but swallow
his tears in her memory.

I watch the sun rise
And the moon descend,
Over and over
Again and again.

What was once
Bright and vibrant
Has become dull and dim,
Even time ages,
Yet I remain still therein.

When the Earth burns
And the stars collapse,
I'll float alone in the dark,
My eyes roll back in my skull,
I am lifted up high,
But I'll never fall.

I watch the sun rise,
And the moon descend,
Death following death,
Over and over,
Again and once again
You are convinced
Your life has meaning
Because you still haven't witnessed,
Time
Die.