between midnight and dawn

That which binds us is our greatest key to liberation.

I keep watch with the early hours. Practice accounting of every description. In this early morning luminesence I cannot decipher red from black. The spectrum disintergrates into the slow ticking as time leaks from my clock.

A slow drizzle envelops the desert. Grey nomads and thunder clouds. A wet blanket cast across Autumn. We need more purification it seems.

from the left

A sudden whirlwind overtakes me. The desire to blow everything down and rebuild. Prehaps it's been the electrical storms, rattling at my windows each night.

My impulses are dynamite. I'm up for running. Stretching legs to the horizon and galloping until these fidgets are diffused in wide open space.

Let me be propelled from one moment to the next. Suspend the hammer before it smashes. Shattering everyhing in site. I stare at the ceiling until the walls come down. I am clipped wings mimicing flight.

deep breath

despite all my apprehensions, I am grateful for this process.

the shedding of skins overseen by caterpillers, stretching in both directions into the horizon. for all my doubts i am trusting the many reasons why i am here. it is our fears that show us where our greatest strengths lie. there are no weaknesses, merely sore spots. acheing calling for relief.

each day the sun is reborn. there is no need to fear change

on truth

I dissolved into the sand beneath that magnficent midnight skyline.

Something lifted between those trees. A weight soaring upwards on plumes of smoke, transiting to that place where Things Can Finally Rest.

Sleeping dogs lie about alot of things. I'd prefer to tell the truth. Unexpected revelations and the chance to name what had been lurking amoungst the folds of my heart like a campdog around a campfire.

For the record your honesty anchored me as I cast myself into that great expanse. Grounded me in this place without tethering me to what has passed. The chance to look back over your shoulder and describe the landscape is a gift.

And with this knowledge I can walk forward. With this knowledge I can begin anew.

re(turn)

That which has been traversed cannot be recrossed. There is no use in trying to plough a field with a fork.

It's a clouded convolution but I am holding out for rain. I'm not sure where the the moment stops and where I begin. But I am learning, slowly burning small bags that appear in my dreams. I am tracing outlines round the edges. Dotted lines that let the light in.

perimetre

A shock marks a boundary. Carves out the space between what is yours and someone elses.

The sudden disconnection threw me. Backwards. Hurtling away from so many small strings. Revealing the unclouded moment in which I lay. In constant suspension, traversing time, like a small cocoon hoisted above a ravine.

And when my fever rose, I did not feed it. I put my stick away. I watched it dance along that perimetre, lines emerging from the sand.

If I were braver I would be less cryptic.
These wings are still waiting to dry.

Chasing the sky

Swimming in the stars. Enchanted by the constellation. Dancing with the pendulum from death to life and back again.

I am serenading the illusions that envelop the truth. Staring down the realities, lining them up like ducks in a row. A potent brew, I drink deep of the moon, howl my wishes into the void. Thrust myself like an echo, from the base to the summit once more.

Emerging from the underworld, I am draped in all of my dreams. Opaque in the dawning, these things that ellude me are just within reach. By the time the sun sets, the strip tease arouses my senses until I am basted. In the twilight the nectar dribbles down my chin.

Another slumber starts the cycle again....