Humanity's only task
Is to love.
Its only purpose
Its only knowledge
Is to love.
All it wants to do
All it needs to do
Is find something
To love
In each form;

The love
Of the mind.
The love
Of the heart.
The love
Of the soul.
And the love
Of the self.
All of them are
Necessary.
All of them are paths
To meaning.

.
VOL DE NUIT

sudden silences, different paths,
forsaken friendships of the past,
parallel lines intersecting
for a while,
feeding lies , faking words
faking smiles
abrupt endings
night flight to tangential lives
as we live so we die
alone
no one left to cry

Its been a shocking end of our year in many different ways, and I fell a great deal of sadness but for you all, this I pray.

May your sadness turn to joy
in the quietude of your heart,
May your God bring you peace
as the world seems to fall apart

On the oceans of tears we will ride
to calmer waters of a happy place,
stop your eyes forever searching
spinning hands that forever race

Hard gray and frozen day
Hunkered down in a dunescape drear
Tight lipped and knee hugging cold
Back to the offshore wind

No gull no footprint seen
As stiffly rising to face an angry surf
Begins an aimless solitary wander
Amid the scattered shells

Tide pool ripples to and fro
Bending reflections past and present
As low rustling sea oat whispers
Soft bring quiet musings

Hard clouds on sand on sea
Be hung in forlorn dismal aspect
Casting the chill sullen vista of
A lover’s eyes gone cold

scrounged about
but nothings but the empty
realm of the passive
glow ..the empty trays
the butts in the cup
plastic on the box
crumpled and the remote
taped together with
black tape
shiny and new

       Raining all morning

sodden tent canvas sagging

     dreaming of elsewhere

COMPASSION

They never will understand that I’m afraid,
petrified, and paralyzed, knowing what
I will become before my soul is set free.
they don’t see me anymore and have
shut the door to love, care and affection
these “models of compassion.”
they don’t know my defeats and small victories,
not how I spend the day unable to live as others do
who have not been stricken to crawl the earth
like a wounded animal in hunger and thirst.
They don’t see me…

Cuttlefish fish cloud and
stucco stipple sky

Baked yellow grass
white hot land the colour of beach pebble eye

A sun painting engorged with eels
seems ageless, and appeals

To our sense of indigenous conscience
but painted in the last decade

When atrocities had burnt through
already, and run to hills dry

Where wide flat paddocks filled
with fattened sheep, looking down

On the middens of the dead
from their hillside retreat

River rises swift

                  In cold spring morning

Wet snow melting as it falls

                  The north wind penetrating

Pushing sheets of rain

                   Over mountain pass 

This is the most natural series...
of a sleeping serpent...
with the warmth of his apples...
waiting for the seed to be ripened...
then implanted
as did Adam into Eve...
such is your train journey story.
twill is lovely...
as comes out a smaller plant-
---- combined----
like two in blue...
she and you...
the outcome of train journey
naturally would do...
for you two!