It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
Green threads stitching our dreams about us,
They
who need others are forever shackled
Strange
how life goes on without us.We thought we knew about each other,
Like all before us and those behind
We hadn’t even begun to explore
The shallowest compartments of the mind.
Sometimes love comes softly
Like a feather in soft breeze awoken,
But you can’t see into another’s heart
Can’t listen to what’s beyond the spoken.
Life is an untidy playwright
Loose ends hanging everywhere
Hard to bottle a wish or hope,
Melody preserved by tongue and ear.
Where everlasting ends and eternal begins
Time
would tell who was leaning on who,Those without clocks can feel time
Running out, myopia of long view.
We lived in the neighbourhood of guilt
In humble cottage of clay and straw,
Your truth liberated me from me,
Brought me to the now I never saw.
No sin is original, all has happened
before,
Lies are just echoes in the mind,Happy the addiction to the holy breeze of now
All images of you left behind.
Sympathy is short-lived in the room where I sit
With splinter, shell and stone,
Happy in the know that loneliness fades
In the being of being alone.
(happy new year and era Smokey, you were everything).
