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Peace.
For the first time in a long time,
I feel at peace, I feel tranquil,
I feel at ease, I feel I can be real,
I feel love as I look at a photograph of my friend,
I feel a bond with my hopeful Angel of inspiration,
who has been with me when I needed them, always,
and especially recently, when my life
and my entire world felt like it was coming to an end.
There are clouds still above me,
but there is a ray of hope
that I can see streaming down on me;
there is a sunset,
but also a promise too of new things on the horizon-
there is a shining star in the sky
that is far away, but just as bright and beautiful as the sun.
Hope felt like a dream of mine that I once had only a few days ago,
but today… today, I rediscovered something that was always there,
which will never leave me as long as I have her, you, in my life-
I rediscovered that which bruises but also bolsters my ego:
a lesson to learn from, a calling-card to know me by-
a smile, a look, a feeling, an audible rhythm and beat of my heart
that is as noticeable as the toothy-grin of a Great White shark.
I don’t know whether I am going forwards, or going back;
I don’t know if the light that I see,
that is both in front and behind me,
is a beacon at the beginning or at the end of a path,
but I know that I am getting closer and closer to myself,
and I can almost touch the purest energy I have ever perceived
already returning me to full mental,
biological, and spiritual, health.
If hope were a person,
I would describe them
as a combination of you and I, in infinite ways;
if I could describe in one word what I am feeling now,
that word would be “release”;
if I did not stop myself
I could describe over and over
that wonders that I still believe in
and the miracles of life that I see every single day;
if I were to describe how I feel right this second,
and where I am, it would have to be at home,
feeling my best, at peace.
Every adventure begins with a dream;
every epic starts with a first step;
every day begins with a sunrise
that you may not always see;
every ocean starts with that very first drop.
Every singer starts by singing into a hair-brush;
every author begins by first writing in a diary;
every musician starts with an imaginary instrument-
like an air-guitar- while listening to their favourite music
full-blast, and being told to turn the music down
with a bang on the wall, or a hush;
every song-writer begins writing songs as poetry.
Every driver starts by having a go behind the wheel
of their parents car;
every life full of language and conversation
begins with that first word;
every humanitarian, or doctor, starts every day of their calling
with the oath ‘to do no harm’;
every disease that was ever thought to be wholly-untreatable
will one day be found to have a cure.
Every happy life begins with that first friend;
every band began with that first practice-session;
every new beginning started with an end;
every great relationship began with a question.
Every fortune started with that first penny;
every chain began with that first link;
every thing about who you are and who you will be
goes back and can be traced to who is your family;
every change of perspective begins by you considering
a possibility that you never thought to every think.
Every collection begins with that first item that you treasure;
every place of peace and serenity started as the place
where you always wanted to be when you were a kid;
every passion should always be a pleasure.
Every singer, every musician, every poet, every astronaut,
every teacher, every vet, every soldier, every inventor,
every gardener, can always go back
and point to the time, and they can always tell you what,
and where it all began, and where it all started.
There is nothing more breath-taking than a sunrise,
there is nothing more welcoming than a new day,
there is nothing more humbling and hopeful
than looking into a new-born baby’s eyes,
there is nothing more magical to behold
than the sight of the stars of the Milky Way.
I have seen people rise and fall, like day and night-
some who feel as if everything in their life is going wrong,
and some who say that life could not be better
because everything is going their way.
Life is endless. Life is varied.
Life is more than anyone could express.
Life is the acceptance that anything and everything is possible,
somewhere at some time.
Life is the struggle and the growth towards the strongest light
that touches every branch and energizes every seed.
In my life-time I have witnessed, observed, and been fascinated by,
the great leaps that humanity has taken,
the mysteries that have been revealed,
the beauty and the epic story of our universe,
and I share the passion of so many others
to continue to delve and learn more;
but what compels me and satifies me the most
is the thought that even in the life-time of everyone who will ever live
on Earth, or around a distant star,
we may believe that we know what makes the universe tick,
but we will never know what began life’s eternal clock,
nor the instigator that gave rise to all.
We find our own way in life, guided along the way by signs,
lights, and people, who will ultimately inform who will be
at the moment that we take our last breath,
as our last tears fall down our cheeks
like the last drop of rain;
and when the sun sets on us for the last time,
we shall return to life and begin again.
A gust of wind blew through the trees,
as I stood in my favourite forest
and watched a single leaf break-away from its branch,
and begin to fall to Earth.
As this lone leaf descended above me,
right in front of me, time appeared to freeze.
This leaf, for some reason, was now defying gravity itself-
its fall had somehow become interrupted-
it was now floating and turning in the air right in front of me,
as if I were witnessing a token of nature and the world’s unlimited wealth.
The rest of the world was a blur to me;
the leaf, however, I could see with impeccable clarity.
Everything felt like a dream, but this wasn’t a fantasy-
this was like another state of reality.
There wasn’t a sound to be heard,
and yet I thought that I could feel noise all around-
something that was keeping me on my feet,
but denying the leaf from finding the ground.
It was as if I was watching a magic trick,
but I knew that it wasn’t an illusion
orchestrated by a magician, nor a hallucination-
what I was experiencing was, I can only describe as being,
like a moment of regeneration-
and this leaf had chosen to sacrifice itself
so that this necessary change could take place;
this leaf was all life on Earth,
this leaf was the changing face of every Earth-born race.
The air was cold, but I felt like a warm flame-flickering lantern;
the trees were still, but the golden leaf continued to turn.
And then, the rest of the world came back into focus.
Another gust of wind blew through the forest,
the branches of the behemoths all around me swayed from side-to-side,
all the leaves from all the trees suddenly fell to Earth as-one-
as if the entire forest had cried.
Every golden leaf that had once been green
and had coloured these woods every shade of life imaginable
now spiralled down through the air to the floor- around me, on me;
however, there was one exception:
the leaf that had fallen first was the last to touch the Earth
that lay in waiting-
it fell, but it fell in its own time, at its own pace-
saying a long goodbye to an existence that it was forsaking.
I was tempted to put out my hand to stop the leaf from completing its journey,
but then I berated myself for such a thought
and I continued to watch the leaf spin for the last time,
and then settle on top of all the other leaves on the ground
that moments ago were high above me.
I looked down at the leaf, until I could no longer discern which leaf had fallen,
froze time, and fascinated me so intently;
and then I looked up again at the trees and branches
that were now bare and free of foliage,
and my mind and thoughts felt flooded, but clear,
and teaming with energy and peace-
like the water of the Great Barrier Reef.
My focus was now clear,
my foundations of life were now cemented.
I believe that I witnessed the beginning, the end,
and the beginning of another universe
that began in the time that it took
to watch the slow flight of a falling leaf.
A flash of light.
The birth of something vast, and yet infinitesimally small.
A seed of life in a perpetual night.
The rise of consciousness, chaos, order, and the legacy of all.
Oceans of energy, tides of infinite direction and dimension,
islands of independence and inter-dependency
all in a constant state of reinvention, floating, twisting, and turning,
on a perceivably black but in reality multi-coloured sea.
Every galaxy, every star, every planet, every quantum of life,
has a legacy and also an ancestry and a lineage to the light
that still illuminates after billions of years-
a celestial bloodline that links every newborn to every nebula,
that stems from the core of every planet
to the heart of every intergalactic pioneer.
The legacy of humanity is the same correlating story as that of the universe,
and has been since that first evolutionary flash-
and that symbiosis will continue to last
even after what we think of ourselves and the world
has returned to dust and ash.
Their are some who fear the unknown depths of their own minds,
just as they fear the oceans of Earth,
or the uncertainty and the confusion of the dark-
such trepidation has a gravity to it that is easy to orbit,
but which at the same time holds them back
and colours their view of the world stark.
Just as the light from stars continues to shine
long after they expel their final solo performance to the audience
of their intergalactic neighbours-
every form of energy, every particle, every person, affects another-
even as it dims and wavers.
The way we were, the way we are, the way we are going,
the way we have always been, and the way we are always going to be,
is life, the universe, the beginning, the end, existing as one,
then and now- and in a word,
that is our legacy.
What is in a word?
Where do words and names originate?
Is it all down to chance, the slip of a tongue, an accidental pen-stroke;
or is there a reason in there meaning, a pre-written script of fate?
I have always been fascinated by the origins of things,
people, places, words, and names-
first name, surname, country, city, animal, tree-
the varying causes that are close to our heart,
the reasons that we carry for why we are such a devotee.
The origin of an idea is of particular interest to me;
the first heartbeats of an inspiration
always break-free of my chest and always find themselves
written on the pages of my life in enduring ink for all the world to see.
There really is something to marvel at “the start”-
a whole set of new experiences, memories, feelings, and fascinations
that may lead to a partner, a friend, a change of life,
or a masterpiece of living, breathing, inspiring, art.
I believe it is important to remember, to learn, and to remind ourselves
where things came from, and why they came into being in the first place:
our names, for example; names can be changed,
but each has its own story to be told, its own path that you can retrace.
Everything has a heart,
everything that matters and that lasts
has an undeniable attraction and gravity about it,
because it came into being with meaning;
everything and anything that has a passion pulsating from its core-
a legend, a hero, a story, an idiom,
is a legend, hero, story, idiom, worth reflecting and believing.
I am an optimist of the future,
but I am also a lover and a cherisher of a what has come before-
I am always enthused about hearing why something was made,
and for whom it was first made for.
A true wonder of the world
is something that connects with the wonder of your birth,
and which still energizes, and creates, new life everyday under your skin-
a truth, and an insight into the entire universe’ existence, your life-
and our collective origins.
Guitar pick poised; baton raised;
recalling that first note and how it is phrased.
A moment when the real world stops and turns into ‘Wonderland’,
as if you are standing in a desert being consumed by quicksand:
that moment when you, your art, your passion, your love,
become like the hand that perfectly fits the glove;
that moment when you- the maestro, the architect, the creator, the inventor-
become a god, a master, a hopeful machine of a world with you at the centre.
You are the DJ; you are the conductor;
you are the one that everyone has been waiting for.
In the beginning you create the rules, and tease what is yet to come;
and while you have your orchestra and audiences undivided attention,
you take them back in time with you to the dawn of your awakening-
that time when the world was new, and you didn’t want to miss a thing.
But then you stop, then you face them, then you convey to them the truth:
you tell them what happened when you put the last card on your house of cards’ roof.
You resight; you reinvite; you rebuild, as if you were rebuilding the entire world-
you remind them that there is always hope, even after your reality has been unfurled.
You take them on a journey with you that seems to have no end:
a journey where you can be who you are, and you no longer have to pretend.
However, when the end does come, it is over before you know it-
the people who were so engrossed in you have returned to their lives and split.
Where do you go when your orchestra, band, audience, and fan’s leave:
back to your own words, music; book cover, or album sleeve?
Or, do you go back to where it all started;
back to where inspiration first imparted;
back to the beginning; back to the big bang:
back to the moment when you first played, loved, wrote, and sang.
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 