When a swan loses a partner, it will never settle for another. It will drift along the lakes of lovers for the rest of its eternity, with only solitude for company. A beautiful or tragic choice? Im not so sure.

But what I do know is this; there are levels of love which fill our hearts with joy and then there is the rarest of love which fills our souls with something indescribable. Can we imitate something so rare? Something with no words to compare?

GJW

Rat a tat tat, the rats were hungry tonight.

She often thought about laying traps to snare the stinking vermin, but they could smell every brave thought in that determined imagination of hers and every hidden crevice  of her captive mind.

Scrounging, hungry, ***** rats, scratching their way through her walls of peace and tranquillity for another slice of her magic.

One day, one day those rats will surely die from the potency of her will for them to leave, or, she will simply remove their tails one by one when she’s sharpened herself up enough.

A rat with no tail is a comforting thought in the midst of it all.

He spent so long peeling away her layers, never pausing, never giving up. When he unraveled the very last layer, he couldn’t believe his tired heartbroken eyes.

Her heart was rotten and dead and there was nothing striking of her left, he had peeled away every last layer in the hope that he would find something more beautiful than her flesh and all he got was a wretched ugly mess. Still, that will teach him for not looking inside first. Yet more evidence that the eyes tell lies.

Forced smiles,
grey skies,
fading spirits,
no children laughing
on the murky streets,
Bills to be paid,
so they scurry to work
dragging their feet,
back to the grind they go,
reluctance and
Sombre in tow,
Just another day of putting on a show
For what you ask? Nobody knows

It’s so easy for you to carry on as ‘normal’ with the mask fit snuggly over your truth, hiding behind the pretence of your world. The convenience of your world, the routine that you have cleverly adapted to hide a thousand truths of passion, connection and realness. I hope your pretence consumes you, just as my love, truth, sincerity and authenticity consumes me.

The moment you emerge from the stagnant smoke, you instantly forget ever being there.

It’s what being zapped through a portal into another dimension would feel like.

one minute you’re choking for what feels like an eternity in toxic mist and the next minute you’re dancing on a glitter paved street.

“See you later alligator.”

“In a while crocodile.” She cheers back at him before he disappears out of the back door. He is the very essence of what it means to ‘Love thy neighbour.’ He’s a brilliant, kind, quick witted free spirit, living within the shell of an old man. He’s a sinner alright, he loves his whiskey and his cigarettes, he’s always reaching in that flannel pocket of his for his light.

I’ve spent too much time over the years drifting with pirates, travelling on seas not meant for me.

I’ve finally built my own vessel. One strong enough to withstand the grandest of storms and while I might still be learning how to adjust my sails and have no idea where I’m heading, I do know that I’m ready for one hell of an adventure.

The more profound the emotion, the more vivid the memories and that is why you can feel their presence long after their absence.

Mind: You need to free him from your fire before you devour that poor man with your majestic flames.

Heart: But you are both made of the same fire. Keep burning. Show him how beautiful it is when two passionate flames collide

She was a hungry lioness, with an insatiable appetite when it came to him. With no inhibitions when claiming her feed, she devoured the very roots from his soul and he made no attempts to stop her, he just relented to the savageness of it all.

I’m ready to pick up the pace a bit now, I’ve become a bit lazy with my strides,
I need to re fuel my engine and get back out on the open roads.
They tell me the opportunities are along the straight crowded ones,
but I’m drawn to the lonely crooked dirt tracks beyond.
I might just wait until I get there
and decide as the mood takes me,
like I do.

She suffers no fools gladly and only a fool would think otherwise.

There are no credentials which need to be met, anything material is insignificant to her. But he must possess a passionate mind, she needs to able to converse with him explicitly, anything else would be an insult to her intuitive soul.

There are no shallow grounds within the walls of her fortress.

honour his mask, because I understand how hard it was for him to reveal himself to me.

He still feels the need to keep it close by and I never take it personally. I continue to honour his mask with equal amounts of adoration, because I’m already well acquainted with the purest and most beautiful parts of him

Keeps us all in order. Reminds us we’re getting old, so let’s cram in as much as we can and run ourselves ragged.

Gets us to work and school, reminds us of important and not so important engagements scheduled in our busy, already overloaded diaries and in the very end, all it does is reward us with getting us to the church on time!

If we do get to come back, I’m coming back as a bird. I’d love nothing more than to glide the skies with not a care in the world, other than where my next worms coming from.

Ps: I don’t wear a watch.

GJW

The shelf must have been made with her in mind, to cope with the weight of her reluctance for so long.

The good thing about the shelf is, it’s high enough for her to view the magic of the birds and the bees, without the worry of impact wounds to her wings from the vultures which prey.

she’s not afraid to fly from its edge and
She loves the sights she sees from the comfort of her shelf. Its just that, she has the best of both worlds from where she sits, so, she waits for the one who wants to will her from the solitude of her shelf but one who is also happy to enjoy the splendid views with her too.

She carries a tidy mess of contradictions in her bag.

you’ll notice her reach in for her perfumes every so often.
Her preferred scents are simplicity and love and she will spritz her magic when she pleases,always over doing it, as she does.  

But it’s her swift strokes of coldness when applying the colours of her complexities which is quite unexpected,but, as soon as you show her that she doesn’t need to apply these things, she simply places them back into her bag.

This is how simple I am. When I see a driver desperately willing the traffic to allow him out of the street from where he is trapped, I stop to let him out. That smile of relief on his face and the wave of acknowledgement at the selfless gesture he has received, literally makes me beam as bright as the headlights travelling the streets.

She wonders what she will write tonight. She rummages through her chest of thoughts, picking bits out one by one before she reaches into her heart for her string of pens.

“What have we got here then.” She says aloud, as she decides on her loyal companion for the evening. It will surely be a night of magic mixed with fierce and fury, just to be extra.

She would like to settle her love someday, but she’s too wise to the ways of the tainted lovers of this world, that she feels she would simply spoil it with what she knows of the sorrow which lives within its uncertain arms.

The kind ear, the soft shoulder,the soothing words, the encouraging arms. She could write her own thesis on compassion and logical advice. But when it came to her own, she could never recall the theory of it all. She somehow forgets the invaluableness of it.

The Phoenix adored the company of the charismatic swan. They loved to talk freely, laugh, love and peel away each other’s fears. She wished they could laugh together forever.

But, you see, it was never to be, because, the swan was a settler, very much accustomed to life amongst the pretty Lilies which lay demurely on calm waters and the Phoenix? well, she was a wild flamed wanderer of the skies.

It’s getting harder for me to play the part with the ‘sleeping ones’ of the world.

I can feel myself becoming less tolerant for their pretentious conversations and feeble ways, which leave me screaming back into my shell of solitude.

Ego, judgment, nonsense and tales of utter insignificance. I cringe at the very words dripping from their superficial souls.