Time is like a river
Endlessly flowing
a relentless current
draws us ever closer
to the unknown sea
As effortless as diamonds
scoring glass,
the flow of it etches
an age old story,
Through layers of Earth,
Through the bedrock of human existence
The landscape laid before us
The ley lines of fate
Long drawn...
THe ancient song
Calls them into being,
Shifting and changing them beneath its will
New pathways formed
Emerging from an unsuspecting  force
We are captured in its fluid surface,
... Where life's thin reflections dance like ghosts.
The hypnotic, tireless pulsing
of its Rhythmic beat
Polishes even the most rugged stones
A crystal garden sparkles in the moonlight
Beneath those deep and troubled waters,
her lucid channels glisten in
the reflection of mother Moon...
The Sun's beloved mirror,
Softly whispering to the waiting tides
She smiles down gently on the rippling waters below
So full,
Wide-eyed and gracious,
She keeps watch over the river of time...
And we, too, are in her favor,
For it is her soft light
Reaching out to us
Illuminating the spark in our hearts
While we trudge the wary, winding road
On this dark night of our soul

TELL THEM HOW CLOSELY YOU WOULD WATCH YOUR BATTERY DIE, TELL THEM HOW YOUR HEART WORKS THE SAME WAY, TELL THEM YOU ARE SO TIRED OF BEING USED, TELL THEM YOU ARE DEAD.

There are constellations between your teeth and you have starlight wrapped around your tongue, there is moonlight in your eyes but sunlight in your smile
Every time you breath you inhale glitter and oxygen and powdered sugar, the scent of grass and strawberries and hope
Flowers bloom between your ribs and wind through the joints in your hips, your knees, your wrists
There is a whole menagerie in your stomach, butterflies and pelicans and Bengal tigers
Your skin is crushed velvet, silk and lace, encasing a skeleton of steel and iron, silver filigree
Your hands are soft as cotton, rose petals, strong as the will of all your ancestors.
When you die you will melt back into the earth, disintegrate and fall back to where you came from
You will be absorbed back into the atmosphere and the universe will swallow you up.
It will rearrange your atoms and produce something completely you but completely different.
You are one of a kind, you are the entire universe.
You will never be again, but you will never stop being.

The tour guide was usually a taxi-driver,
But for a few extra Euros, he was my guide.
Jobs are scarce.
For two hours we toured Yeats Country,
Me, sitting beside this man of letters, and for once,
Enjoying the drive and not the anxiety
On Irish roads.
They're narrow and winding to Ben Bulben,
With stops at neolithic stone circles, burial mounds,
Passageways and, A Fairy's Fort.
The culmination was  Drumcliff Churchyard
Where I was to prove his existence.
He has an unassuming stone,
One usually doesn't linger long,
But my Guide stood beside me,
And suddenly recited,
The Fiddler of Dooney.
I was sure it was Yeats' accent,
This unassuming poet.
I did as bid,
I
Cast a cold eye,
And stood glad that
I
Wasn't him,
As I stopped,
Before passing by.