I haven't yet realised the ease
With which the poet allows intimacies
To slip away into the welcoming
Embrace of the reader.

I am no wild Byron, sowing my seed
On all grounds, stony and fertile alike
(Though perhaps that is just as well
For posterity).

I have no cause, no plan, no scheme,
Nothing to fight for or even espouse:
A true postmodern product of a time
Lacking imagination.

A constant running commentary
On myself - a work which does the jobs
Of critics and academics alike -
They must surely be grateful.

So I sit and write myself a letter:
"Solipsism and self-absorbtion
Are a circular labyrinth
With no exit.

"Look outside.
- Sincerely, C. Treacy."

Dedicated to Gary Treacy*

Do not dwell on the darkness,
For not even the spirits see the black
Or dust, yet minds do sink into deeper pits
As the essences of the past slowly dwindles, cuts
Into grains of shattered glass and hits
The heart, the mind, and down it shuts
Away the memory that hurts us most,
As we have to live with our loved ones ghost.

Mourning raises the sun,
With a light that blinds wet eyes,
Over a life that is gone and done.
Yet even you, know death is not a demise,
Except in our own space and time,
And that be in the night,
When shadows and corners play mime,
That every lost one is in sight,
Not only by eye but on every nerve
And not just when the moon is high,
But when the mind takes a double swerve
And we see that our five senses often do lie

Life is not only bone and skin,
It is like a fluid, wind and fire,
That is not as simple as the laws of sin,
Nor an entrance to the pearly heavens we so, desire.
It glides through the air,
Of gasps of cries that fill your nights with unease,
And it wraps you in with such care,
Until it sweeps through you like a steady breeze,
Love transcends our journey through this place,
And no matter what its length,
The beat, drum and tap keeps its pace,
Even when our mortal hearts lose their strength
And we end up with a cross above,
Remember, lest we forget,
That life is like the holy dove,
Forever flying up, up and up.

So do not bury yourself in a mourning grave,
For he, you and 6 billion others will always be saved.
In memory, heart and up in the clouds,
So stand up, and for his life – be proud.