Soaked Feather

On the border of wakefulness and sleep man begins to create. Today a wounded mind paints the hurt that tortures it - this same artist that drew birds and butterflies two nights cast. Dipped in a well of thoughts, wishes and fears, my minds canvas comes alive with images that can only be described by a babbling lunatic.

Even without the sun on my eyelids, I awake to a universe of purpose, guided by thorns and bees yet motivated by thousand year old scrolls preached by herdsman. I wander in the aftermath of a hurricane and marvel at the splendour that has endured me to my mortality- a life wasted on desire, barely scholared in worthwhile wisdom. This silence marks the deafening climax of the screams of reaped souls. I walk away from ship wrecks and mosquitoes un-hurt, though day by day I build a catalog of recessed pain.

I am told of others like me, animals who wandered unto extinction due to the limits of their imagination. And so I push beyond natures walls and contemplate the genesis of trees and emotions of earthworms. Each find is a picture that graces the walls of my closed eyes and draws me nearer to the precipice of my fragility. Shortly, I am tossed by heat from a world outside and my universe reshapes to fit new latitude – one predestined. Destiny, to some, is merely a story of the history of the dead. Our stories are in the sands, thus I walk on my destiny, dry and dusty.

Shreds of reality obscure my vision and contaminate this masterpiece that my mind has created. I am left to acquire more ink from the days of toil. This I must do before the dark when I scribe or the dark when my art is lost forever

Two Sides

Everything has two sides, a coin, water, even sand can be wet or dry
Odd verses Even, eleven players on a football pitch with arch rivals.
A ball, though round, can either be kicked or thrown.
Hands, Legs, walking and running; two sides to everything
just like lights and shadows

I’m a two sided coin
when tossed I’m on the path of a Ghandi, walking barefoot
and pouring water on desert plants
carrying children on my bent back and
dropping to my knees by the moving of the sun…
and then
I’m tossed again!
This time the coin lands on a tail

My eyes well up and my tongue flows wet with strong harsh gushing words that cut through feeble hearts.
I move quick, slow,
jump and crawl,
pouncing on the unclothed and still water flowers but this time only virgins owned by a gardener
who is away from his home.

The coin drops but no! I don’t stop. I’m lost on one side; the side that comes once the sun gone
From a white robe into black leather,
from bare feet to running shoes;
I’m running fast because I’m lost on this one side

The coin falls yet again, this time on its second face and in a flash, the tail is gone!
I see the little piece of metal shining with its head facing the sky
I stop and look; can I see what the coins sees as it stares into the heaven?

I take off the running shoes and step off the fast lane
I pour water on my sore bare feet and kneel with the changing sun
The white robed Ghandi once again; turning after the tossing of
a simple two sided coin