All my life
is waves, expressed as rays,
phases, and cancellations...

...Waving by
and paving over
what I made in other ages

Undulating sway,
disrupting Self,
the Phrase, the Word, the Way --

Nameless, without
shape - within all shape -
all touch, all taste;

One expressed as Two:
compress, expand, repeat.
In balance, truth.

Lilting swells
that break in mind and water,
endless scintillation;

Every word as complex
as its counterpart,
unpatterned ocean;

All motion
the illusion of Desire,
the fire that burns to Rest...

...But only ever
simulates, for trough
but stimulates the crest;

When all my waves
have ceased and found their peace,
there ends my quest.

Eloquence.
Oh how many greater words I could use.
What marvels|
What intricacies|
What most unpatterned qualities!
Such confusion in the matter that it may be called,
                        Life.
           It is not life,
But no one living does dream of life without it.
For there is always one of two ways it appears.
Through the scars, the kisses, the waiting and laughter.
There is only the happy presence
Or the sorrowful lack of-
                                 Love.

“Joy”
Happiness.
Oh how many greater words I could use:
What eloquence,
What marvels,
What intricacies,
Oh what most unpatterned qualities!
Such confusion in the matter that it may be called:
                    Life.
Yet it is not life,
Though no one living does dream of life without it,
For there is always only one of two ways it appears:
Through the scars,
                     The kisses,
                            The waiting,
                                         and laughter…
There is only the happy presence
Or the sorrowful lack of
                 Love.

I could not tell you of where, when or how
Or why or whence or with whom
It began.
All I can speak of is what I perceive
My neurons oblivious of floor plan.

Gray matter confabulates my wisdom,
Muddles synaptic impulse.
Confused nerves,
Travel unsheathed in an unpatterned grid
Relay scrambled message with undue verve.

Concerto fifth, notes ripple through the air
I hear not this music rich
But I see
Colours of infinite depth ebb and flow
Sounds live in my eyes, lines swirl and flurry.

Waning sun kissing the horizon deep
I see not this beauty pure
But I smell
Warm scent of sweet cinnamon and jasmine
Pictures translated to redolent swell.

Olfactory bliss of soft infant kiss
I smell not this fragrance warm
But I feel
Velvet satin touch caressing my skin
Scents flow as mercury on fingers sealed.

Hypnotic pressure of pebbles underfoot
I feel not this kneading joy
But I taste
Caramelised coat cut by bold sour storm
Tactility morphs into scrumptious paste.

Palate aglow under five course repast
I taste not this saucy feast
But I hear
Melodious blend of pitch and cadence
Flavour unwrapped in acoustics of my ear.

My topsy-turvy world
Created
By my poor flummoxed nerves.
Never a listless moment
Dished up by
Crossing neurons as they swerve.