.
And the waves crash down on a distant shore,
as worlds collide in a dramatic final encore,
a panic birthing universe, the original sacred chao,
bellicose suns carve furrows like a plough,
seed stars ******* from the maelstroms core,
illuminating that which was not there before.

The universe is a cell inhabiting a bigger store,
a microcosmic component born and newly restored,
internal explosions of chemistry creating divisions,
warping space about ideas, moulding time's schisms,
imagining life as the accident of a misplaced spore,
as the waves crash down on a distant shore.


© Pagan Paul (24/02/18)

.

I capture an image
as you flitter
through my dreams,
never resting to say hello,
never staying long enough
for me to enjoy
or appreciate your visits,
your mist like touch
as St Vitus Dance drives
you fidgeting
amongst my inner thoughts,
no care for the damage caused
nor the trails
of scented confusion,
yet wraith-like or feral ghost
your imprint leaves
traces of perfumed attention
in a tortured mind,
that linger with a hope
of a fleeting glance,
replaced with a second look,
and the tender torment
persists in the clinging grip
of pictures
sequenced to evade notice.


© Pagan Paul (05/03/18)