Thursday, 29 May 2008

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams


...But I, being poor have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.


from He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven (1899) by W.B. Yeats

Tuesday, 27 May 2008

her cat

ball of fur(iness),
fluffy purr(iness),
slightly fat -
her cat.

Monday, 19 May 2008

now evening comes

What can encompass the tales of a thousand shared battles,
a thousand victories, a thousand defeats,
a thousand loves and friendships won and loss and resurrected,
the joy and the sorrow,
the light at the end of the tunnel?

We who found each other on the same journey,
we who lived and fought and died together,
we who gave everything for a dream,
we who gave our lives to a great adventure...

WE have laughed at the mountain!
Huddled together when the wind blew coldest,
tasted the dew in the early morning,
watched the sun rise on its highest peaks,
scaled its most treacherous slopes,
built homes in trees,
made fire from wood,
and in that magic twilight cooked wild vegetables on an open fire,
and gathered together to toast a day well spent.

So what shall we say, now evening comes?

Folk law will always speak of great leaders of men,
awesome warriors,
gods and goddesses,
gallant knights and destined heroes:

He was a hero worthy of the word,
a conqueror worthy of the victory,
a captain worthy of his men.

So we'll sit round the camp fire until the mist clears from the sky,
and after each of the stars
we'll name a sorcerer,
a princess,
a jester.

We have lived lives worthy of folk tales,
worthy of songs,
worthy of wonder.

So lets fill our hearts with joy,
fill our hearts with peace,
fill our hearts with happiness,

now evening comes.

Saturday, 10 May 2008

Human sacrifice

she comes to me as a
wet fire
where I must again and again and again
worship,
douse her flame,
she surrenders unabashed her emptiness,
quench her majesty with my tongue and lips,
she breaks the bread and offers it to me,
her body is given,
she raises the cup over her head,
this is her blood which is given for me,
her cup of supplication flows over my pilgrim's kiss,
with sweet tasting honey,
a living offering
from heaven to heaven,
she rises again
bringing salvation,
born not of pain,
nor righteousness:
but born of
ecstasy