I tore my heart out of my chest
dug up the Earth left of Street 13
buried it deep under - a time capsule -
perhaps to be found when I am gone
by curious lovers stumbling that way
they marvel at its apparent immortality,
how the Earth healed all wounds and
despite the scars, it beats ba-***.
perhaps it ends up in the Museum
as a relic, a treasure that wasn't valued
when it gave to the world all it could -
in its own time, ignored, swept away -
perhaps blooming, now finally seen.
my heart turns a thousand years of age
and is excavated as fossil by gentle hands,
there is truth to be found in the ruins
bones melt away, cardiac muscle remains.
perhaps God lent it some permanence
that the Fates cannot cut off this thread.
existing will be my heart's rebellion
when all is lost and ice covers the land
it will persist in the dark cold damp
holding a torch for someone long dead
maybe living on to give to a new world.
holding on to the alien idea of forever
forevermore.

And now a change of scenery;
the night has truly fallen
now
and departing from
our Baltic Galway
“into the woods”
we can greet the callings
of some shenanigans
luring and
lurking there
to plant or extract ideas
and trespassings
of
our
flickerings.
Have a waiting room
in car rides,
help yourself

And earlier,
barefoot through
sand poured with pine needles
and we walk
nevertheless.
Bare feet open
the way to puddles
of warm diamonds
called sky water
now with pungent flowers
hitting senses like ambrosia,
the way to high embracing
of the trees whilst climbing,
to mud healing,
to impassive conquering
of any earth we
encounter,
to comprehension,
and to the respect
of all that came
and left through
these lands
in the span
of
all
the history.

Stronger and stronger,
closest to the truest
an affection and
calling
belonging
from the trees.
As such I cup one all,
I never want to let go,
there comes a commotion,
like entering the hidden crowd
from which you’ve always known
you truly come from,
like creatures
of a forest looking
in the silence too deep
at a village of
another world.
At first I thought from scientists
that plants don’t like being
touched,
yet as someone
quite new told me:
“Would you
be able to
find such
comprehension, love
and moving
appurtenance if they
didn’t feel exactly
the same towards
You?

Recent forest
walks when I
free my spirit too to
let it approach me
make me feel that
such great intimate
pride of an archer
or
vagabond
bound with it all in
their own story
and perception, and
even a half an hour walk
makes itself a wonder of
a few pages of a
Robin-Hood-like
book
in my presence
walking.

Also, the same
in river’s sole fine
line of freeze,
who holds dear
the mute,
those
who feign not
appurtenance
of this
world.

Let us stop,
we have arrived
already at our shack
and there’s our safe
space that
holds a place
for us to sleep
away.

Another
unconscious lesson
in God’s library,

another
Sun
to
come.

A being can only become immortal
if they fall in love with the stars.

The stars will invite you to beam in the night sky
once you have said goodbye to your centre piece.

A bond with the stars is everlasting,
contrasting to the life of the heart beat.

Something about immortality fascinates me!
But I realized that I don't need science or cryogenics,
Because when this flesh is finished,
I'll still have these words I wrote living.
When I leave this life,
I'm gonna leave behind,
The fruit of this eccentric mind!

Small and brown
Wrinkled and worn
It's insides hide secrets, nicks and some nooks
Mold of thy mind, mold of my soul
When pen finally falls
When the body gives finally breath
And man I am gone
It will stress me none
Because I loved, I cried, I laughed
I lusted with wild desired,
More importantly, reluctantly I confess
That above all what puts my heart to rest
Is to know that a tiny speck of me will still be here
In this leather bindings my soul will live

brief echoes of the past
arrange themselves in my present
like shadow puppets on the backs
of my eyelids while i sleep.  

there is an uneven fulcrum
digging into my lower back no
matter how i turn my long
body.

my eyes open into
the same familiar room, with
the same familiar speckles on the
ceiling that they always do.   the
shadows resume their innumerable
forms and i wake
to write another step towards
the beveled edge of immortality.