we here in these northern isles enjoy big skies reflecting big seas
and big seas reflecting big skies
and we are made to feel quite tiny, more Hobbits than Humans
which gives some respite from nauseating feelings of false superiority
our egos kept in check by the vastness of where we live,
you could say it engenders contemplation, or a good beginning, at any rate, the feeling of being small in the face of such overarching splendour.

Solitude is not so much an absence  
truly lived, more a fullness

When the sun is shining bright
And butterflies fly around,
The birds whistle with delight
And kids roll on the ground,
So innocent and carefree.
But soon when clouds hide the sun's light,
the butterflies go unnoticed,
The bird's sounds unheard,
The kids, grown up,
Get involved in the real world.

The sun forgave itself
long ago, for burning too bright,
it scorched our touching palms,
cheek to cheek, it burnt.*

That night we whispered
A song to the reeds,
Let it drift down that
Wayward line of memories,
Let it settle in the graves
Of each bed we slept in.

We let fate colour our
Hearts recklessly, like a
Child who can't stay
Within the confined lines
Of their drawing book.

Until the dawn began,
And we let our skin simmer,
Melting on each other's lips.
Until we are only skeletons
Embracing through a
World set in flames.

She always wondered if
they cared
Always wondered if
it was all a
game of pretend...again
She found it hard
to trust
after all the
pains from days long
run away
We
always wondered how she
could produce the sweetest
of tunes just by entering
the room with
the brightest of smiles she
carried on through
her days
not a soul
knew of the past that
blazed
At times she felt
inside so
crazed
with heartbreak and
betrayal but she,
Determined to be a Light
shined brightest
when it mattered