and I have loved you through all of our seasons tangled in the exhalation of our life, from the dawn that whispered your name to me in a secret it could not keep.



and I have loved you from the first and then in the shadows of lost yesterdays, where light refused to fade, and dreams danced on the edges of our shared possibilities.



and I have loved you though moiling in the smoky haze of the crowded world, the business of tedium made wondrous by division, the unexpected that you laughed at but challenged my soul.



and I have loved you through the twilight's golden touch, tracing the lines of our destiny upon the canvas of night, where every star had found its place in your eyes.



and you, the weaver of worlds unseen, the sculptor of the moon's soft glow, found in my embrace the solace of ancient shores, caught in the cradle of time.



and I have loved you in the quietude of evening's last light, carrying homeward the shared fulfilment of a day and a life, where every moment we breathed together our unity.



to the depths of a love that knows no boundaries, no end, but the endless embrace of forevermore, and I, a humble witness to your splendour, have held you close,



and I have loved you to your very bones.

My father, rise up from your slumber, Defy the chains of death’s decay, Let not corruption hold you, Since it stole your breath away.




Rise and haunt my private musings, And forever guide my choice, In your absence, yet keep close, Beset me with your voice.




I need your trusted aegis, To banish infant fears, Though the clock’s relentless ticking, Has aged me past your years.




In silence, we coexist, Our secrets softly lie, Rise again, father, visit me, Linger, tarry, utter not goodbye.

Venice’s Commemorative Monument to Bartolomeo Colleoni - 1488



The general glares downwards from his horse,

faithfully keeping watch over the mundane,

the tedious progression of centuries.

A sentinel, he had imagined himself—a noble,

intended to become immortal,

traveling ever forward in time,

defying the erasure of memory.



But time is the enemy of all things.

The pigeons and the rain could be tolerated;

time, however, has become relentless and unyielding.

It has eroded his heroic relevance,

he watches unblinking as his glorious benevolence

fades from all memory.

Generation after weary generation

manifests the ruinous decay of collective forgetfulness.

How many instances have I passed through, completely unaware that the simple act of choice, any choice, or even no choice at all, will set a precedent for chaotic movement forward into a future that I could not even have guessed at. How unpreparedly have I been given this power, the ultimate freedom to control and shape my own destiny. More than that though, the absolute freedom to at any and every moment change course and alter my own future forever. Wouldn't it have been easier to move trustingly into a life where fate has stretched out a rail that we ride on to a destination planned and known.



These are the existential thoughts that wake me at times. My mind worries at feelings that seem to be very much ignored or unnoticed by everyone around me. Today it is Possibility. In fact the proposition of infinite possibility.



This compelling facet of human consciousness winds all of my life up into a tangle of both hope and also anxiety, both absolute freedom and yet crushing responsibility.



I just like everyone else I was born new and empty, unchartered and alone in my emerging awareness and howling my confusion at a complex and indifferent universe. The crux of it is, if dwelt on there is no conclusion but to become aware that all of humanity is first censured then condemned to the breath catching realization that we are free to decide our own path and with every choice whether conscious of it or not shape all future existence. The sheer number of paths to choose can halt us to freeze at the cliff’s edge paralyzed by indecision.



The infinite nature of all possibility implies that there is no singular way to set a course, no correct way to live. I feel dizzy at this and have a headache.



So is there any meaning at all to be found. Clearly humans have always searched for this as both individuals and as a collective solace this has has been constructed carefully by means of cultural behaviours and ancient beliefs. Meaning and order and purpose is formed for us and around us. Perhaps meaning is not a thing that is given but must be actively searched for or constructed. Can I craft any meaning in a world that seems devoid of any inherent purpose.



I have the capacity to review past time to reflect upon my past. Perhaps choices made and courses altered. Memories and experiences undoubtedly shape our perception of all possibilities before us. Perhaps that means for us a choice we may have made remains unexplored. Because we have clear sight of what is past but only a limited grasp of our future, it’s like a confusing mess of shadow and light, half understood implications and inference, We are doomed to be pulled into the unknown.



As I move to the kitchen do begin my day these thoughts and more, much more beset me, trouble me and wear me down. Maybe coffee will help or not, I just don’t know anymore.