The instinct

Take it,
Embrace it
Then create with it.

The story

When I walked past that place

It all returned back,

Like a sweep of a shadow

That clambered to pack,

Some more weight to the melancholy

Some more truth to the woe,

If only this recurring spirit

Would its face dare to show.

The light

I stopped for a moment

To capture the light

To treasure some seconds

Too soon out of sight.

I wanted to stay there

And press pause for the day,

But 'twas the relentless beat

That took me away.

The state

If I could bottle this

Capture what is sure to fade,

I could begin to believe

That it's possible not to trade...

The dichotomy of feelings

That parade through the day,

The highs and the lows

The design and decay.

But to remain in this state

Would an affliction be,

For the constant offers no light or shade,

No measure or degree.

The seed

If I speak of it now

Is it all that I am,

Or could it yet be

Just a seed in the plan...

That will bed in its root

And grow in another plain,

Somewhere fertile and rich
A land with no name.

The risk

It is curiosity and risk

That finds the edge of our lung,

The centre of our spirit

Where our story begun...

To lay out its scenes

To pick out its roles,

Those details and ticks

That form the tread of our soles.

The pursuit

If everything is possible,

If it remains that way,

It is worth the pursuit

The time

The energy

The foray.

The tongues

There is something of wonder

In these sounds that we make,

That cross oceans and borders

Histories alive in their wake.

But to know every tongue

Of all of these lands,

Would ruin the mystique

Of the distant 'ohs' and 'ands'.

For to listen so intently

As to try to translate,

Seems a shame just to focus

On a means to partake.

When instead it is magical

To simply recall,

The inflections and twists

The rhythm of the rise and the fall.

The churn

Drop a wedge in the cogs

For if the wheel has its way,

The sign will only ever read

'Nothing here to display'.

For it's the stoic, the stalwart

Who keep up the race

Who assuage a throbbing belly,

Fodder since gone to waste.

Chewing on churn

That does nothing but sate,
The jaws of the masses

Oh how they must ache.

And yet it continues
Like muck spread over lands
Layering over everything
Yet out of our hands.

The climates

The sands will conceal the footprints

The winds no glory allow,

No air to trap the breathless heart

No exit from which to bow.

The soils that spurt growth

That the rains wash away,

The flakes that make a city

A source of urgency and delay.

The lie

If all is deception then a truth must exist,
But should it step forth
Will it remain but a myth?
What does it take to escape from the lie?
Is to channel the pure, to live to deny?
Take the bold stroke and reveal the show
For when all is dust
Yesterday's silence is tomorrow's woe.

The close

Looking back it could've been better
But when the heart isn't in it
All that's left is a letter,
To spell out the reasons why it must end
To emphasise the fact the soul cannot bend.
It's a fragile thread that keeps things in place
Seemingly sturdy but patterned with holes like lace.

The net

So here it is

Another beginning

Another chapter yet to unfold,

Another sense of unravelling reels
Another chance to break the mould.
To change the shape of something so set

To initiate a hiccup, escape the predictable

Break from the net.