feet mine

Time is the web of filtered perception from which we dangle.

Gravity is the clockwise  sentinel, ever vigilant.

This moment is the colour of contentment.

This is the symmetry of peace.


“The God of Small Things”

You are the God of Lost Buttons 
and Abandoned Coins
Of baby Dew Drops that fall unnoticed. 
Of Auburn Leaves that gather in the corner 
Of a forgotten road. 
Of Holes in Pockets, 
Of Barely Audible Whispers, 
Of Opinions mouthed but not voiced, 
You are the God of Benevolent Dreams

“What you seek, is seeking you” – Rumi

It hung in the air suspended by its own gravity

Followed me into the coffee shop

Cut in front of me in the supermarket queue

When I got home, no doubt about it, it was there at the table,

Waiting patiently, cradling a question mark

Yearning to be accepted in all its jagged edges

Insecure about its clichéd origins

But certain of its innate swagger

Its syllabic wrap resounding in my ears

Rolling around on my tongue

Pondering connotations, associations, discerning choices

Compelling me to inscribe

Breathe air into it.