Moist Eyes

Moist Eyes

Eyes moist,
no reason for tears to sit, sometimes leaking
down a face which doesn’t realise they are there,
let alone know why.
Very strange and mysterious is the interior life
which knows incalcuable depths,
yet keeps those same vaults hidden and locked away
from world ….. and smiling, survivor self.

Nightwatch

Nightwatch

Night in full flight
sits upon my chest, 
pinning me down 
forcing me to make sense of it
and use it wisely.
But I rise up like a cackling spectre
and ride this ‘night’ on its satin back,
peering through the windows 
of a turbulent world
and spreading a morning mist 
as the light of day hums it’s way in.
I shall have little sleep this night
for I follow the Pipistrelle and Serotine
way up in the sky allowing myself
the ecstatic joy of dancing with the Lights 
of the firmament and the winds of the earth.
We are all things of the mysterious and the mundane
and yet we cannot grasp the magnitude of 
of the brilliance of all things….
for we keep ourselves asleep 
when in fact,
it is time for us to fly.