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The sun in the sky;
the moon at night;
the planets that some people think
their lives and fates are dictated by;
the stars that have inspired me always,
because their light has been around
since the birth of the galaxy,
and their story has always fascinated me,
and their ability to be both timeless and spent
at the same time gives them a god-like status,
and the gift to be a time traveller, a time machine,
an engine of change, a storyteller, a fortune-teller,
that can tell the future, and inform about the past,
speak volumes, and shine bright.

My mind is always a billion miles away,
I am always taking a ride on an asteroid,
painting with the colours of a beautiful nebula,
and marvelling at the miracle of vibrant
and inspiring distant worlds,
and connecting and imagining the dreams of unseen
and amazing life beyond description every day.

The stars speak to me.
The Earth below my feet holds me.
Life embraces me.
The spectacular sight of a continuous and never-ending
sunrise and sunset and sunrise
is what I love to see.
The story of the entire universe,
and the meaning of all life is in me.
The music that I hear playing and resounding
from the hearts of everyone I know,
and everyone who means something to me,
is the true music of the spheres,
the song of life, the meaning of all life,
light, art, science, religion-
what makes you you, what makes every thing everything,
what makes me me.

The universe is an infinite and wondrous ocean;
the milky-way is a coral reef teaming with life
of all colours, shapes, sizes, description-
some that defy explanation and are beyond words;
life is a complex and intricate web of connectivity;
Earth and its countless population is a shining pearl,
whose miraculous appearance and purpose
is only just discovering its great and incredible potential,
and right now, and always, morphing, changing, evolving,
creating, making, and will one day see, understand,
and share the promise of awakening that we have all been awaiting.

We all have a job to do.
We all have a heart that tells us right from wrong.
We all have to look inside and choose.
We all have to sing our verse of the infinitely-layered,
and unique, universal, orchestral song.
We all have a foot-print to leave, a mark to make-
as long as we remember who we are,
and as long as we stay together,
we all have our own chapter and character interwoven
with that of everyone else and everything else of nature.
We all have times when we are both the traveler
and the interstellar storyteller.



Out the door I see Eden,
out the door I see hope,
out the door I see new possibilities,
out the door I see a beautiful day
bathed in the light of the sun,
out the door I see a direction to go,
out the door I see a mystery, a world,
a people, a life, that never stops fascinating me.

Out the door I see a new adventure,
out the door I see the future and the past,
out the door I see breathtaking nature,
out the door I see a play being played out
before my eyes with an infinite cast.

Out the door I see light,
out the door I see lions,
out the door I see flags
and clouds being blown in the wind,
out the door I see colour of all depths of the spectrum,
out the door I see all that is bright, magnetic,
connected, built, maintained, keeps going,
stays standing, through everything;
out the door I see reality, as if I am seeing it through
a mirror of one-way glass, or as if through the eye
and the vortex and event horizon of a wormhole,
and I imagine that every atom, molecule, energy,
person, building, animal, plant, and thing,
is constantly talking to each other
without them even knowing it,
on another level and frequency of communication.

Out the door I see people I have never seen before
and will probably never see again;
out the door I see history, fate, destiny;
out the door I see heritage, culture,
the beginning of spring-
the change of a season;
out the door I see choice and preference,
joy, and shadow;
out the door I see things that will exist and have existed
for each and every millennium;
out the door I see a world that can be testing at times,
but over all just wants to be friendly;
out the door I see where I must go.

Out the door I see and I think of what is out there for me,
and what would someone think of me if they saw me
while they were looking up and looking out,
and I wonder if anyone else somewhere
is looking through a similar opening
and considering the world they see
for how it feel and appears to them-
what is what it is, and what is in store.
I wonder where I am going
and I imagine someone behind me saying and asking
that same question of themselves and of me,
as they watch me get up and walk out the door.


How could you just throw it all away?
Just because things didn’t end up the way you wanted them to.
I know that you still miss them.
I know that you still think about them
at times of quiet and solitude throughout the day.
You fell in love with them with all your heart.
How could you have known,
would the thought have even crossed your mind,
that they were not in love with you.

The moment that you walked out you tarnished something pristine.
The moment that you left you tore-up
all the pages that you shared together,
leaving nothing but fragments of a special and treasured time
strewn on the ground and blown-away by the wind-
never to be as they were again.

If you could go back in time,
would you change anything that happened?
Even the times when you felt in the dark
as to how they felt about you?

Things are always better at the beginning.
There is always so much innocence, mystery, joy,
celebration of the familiar and the unfamiliar,
and the things that you have in common.
By the time you realise that you love someone it is already too late.
I wouldn’t have had it any other way,
and if I had to do it all again I wouldn’t change a thing.

A lot has happened. A lot has changed.
They have changed. You have changed.
There was a time when what you said to each-other meant everything,
there was a time when the possibility of being in the same room
made you feel nervous, happy, excited-
a short time together, for which you would give anything.

I know you feel guilty for ending your relationship with them.
I know you feel that she ended her relationship with you a long time ago.
I know that on more than one occasion you have tried to reach-out,
in one way or another, to tell her how you feel about her.
I know, and you know, that she would never mean to hurt you,
or anyone, in any way-
she probably cares about you, and what you have done for her,
more than you will ever know.

Just give it some time.
Just keep caring about her in your own way.
Just keep thinking about her,
and keep hoping, as you always have, that she is happy, content, loved.

I know you miss her,
but what you really miss about her is the dream of her-
the first image of her that you ever saw,
the first things that she said to you
that made you fall in love with her.

The world is a big place.
The universe is vast and complicated.
Every time you close your eyes you picture her face.
One day these words will mean something more to you,
when you’re ready.
Don’t forget all that she meant to you,
all that she will always mean to you.
The love. The smiles.
The distance. The heart-break. The end.

Everything is fated.

A bird flew down from high above;
it wasn’t a seagull, it wasn’t a dove-
the bird that landed at my feet, in the street,
was a crow; but not a crow of the colour
that your eyes would commonly meet-
it looked like a crow,
it cawed like a crow,
but its eyes were pink and bright;
it moved like a crow,
it stood like a crow-
but one the like of which I had never seen before,
because this crow wasn’t black,
this unbelievable crow was completely white.
Such a beautiful bird- the colour of snow,
with a glow like that of the moon-
I was mesmerized by it as it opened its white feathered wings,
as it took-flight into the sky like a balloon.
I was flabbergasted by what had just happened,
and also saddened by the white crows sudden departure-
while it stood at me feet I felt elated,
but now that it was gone I felt like I had been shot
through the heart by the arrow of an archer.

Later that same day,
the same crow yet again came my way-
flying over my head, seemingly about to land in the direction of the park-
and as soon as I saw it, I ran in the direction that it flew-
until I must have tripped over something,
because the world soon after went very quickly dark.

When I opened my eyes again
I was instantly blinded by an unbelievably bright light-
before this light became shadowed, and yet golden,
like someone was standing over me wearing a halo of white.

When my vision finally cleared,
I saw that I was looking into the eyes and at the face of an Angel,
or so it appeared-
because I was now looking at someone whom I had never seen,
but whom I couldn’t take my eyes away from-
because she looked so beautiful.

I got myself up off of the ground, feeling as if I had been in a fight-
and the Angel that was standing besides me asked:

“Are you ok? You gave me quite a fright!
I was just about to call an ambulance. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, with a smile, as I put my right hand to my head;
“I don’t even know what happened.” I said,
“I guess in the future I should watch where I tread?”

“One minute you were running around the corner,
and the next you were lying on your back.
I don’t know what happened,” the Angel said,
“but you must have given your head quite a whack?”

“I don’t know what happened either?” I explained-
“you see, I was following a bird-”

“A white crow?” the Angel replied immediately,
before I could say another word.

“Yes!” I said with a shriek, “Did you see it too?”
I asked, with my eyes as wide as the sky,
and I could see that my Angels eyes were too.

“You bet I did! I had never seen one before!
It landed right here, but at first I didn’t know it was a crow-
because it wasn’t black, I wasn’t really sure.
You know, I really think that we should get your head checked-out?”

“We?” I said, with a flutter of hope in my heart,
but also with a touch of doubt.

“Well, I think I better come with you-
just in case you follow anymore birds,
and again find yourself on the ground looking up at the sky,”
my Angel said, with a spark in her eyes and a smile so beautiful
that it would make a grown-man cry.

“Sure,” I said, “but just one thing: I’m going to need your name?”
I asked her with a grin on my face,
and a heart in my chest that now felt like a flame.

“I’m Helen,” she said, as she extended out her right hand;
“And you are?” she asked, but the answer to which,
at first I couldn’t remember-

“Mark,” I said, with my heart burning in my chest
and glowing, I was sure like an ember.

“Well, now that we are both acquainted with one another-
shall we go?”

“Yes, of course!” I replied, as we both started to walk,
and then I looked up into the sky again,
and I saw the wings of the white crow.

I never dreamed that I would meet someone like you,
I never imagined that I would be inspired to write the rhymes that I have penned;
I wish things were different between me and you;
but I don’t regret a thing-
this is the beginning, just as it is the end.

Who I am now is a universe away from who I was-
we all change over time, everyone does;
but after I first saw you,
all I saw, and all I wanted to see,
was your face-
because the moment that I saw you
was a powerful and a life-changing moment for me-
the walls of the world became doors to other places,
as the light that now surrounded the world
spoke the inspiration that would become my poetry,
and connected me forever to everything that the universe is, and never erases.
What I didn’t know then, which I know now,
is that the closer that I thought we were getting,
the further away from one another we always were-
and now that I know the truth, things are different between us,
every poem has become one poem, and the future is now a blur.

This is goodbye,
this is the end,
this is our epilogue,
this is our finale;
this isn’t to say that we wont ever see each other again,
but fate has its own plans for us both, and what will be,
we both will just have to wait and see.


On the 21st of April 1981,
David and Bernadette Hastings were blessed with the birth of a baby son.
Today, now, on the 21st of April 2011,
sitting in his house in the Centre of England, in the village of Meriden,
David and Bernadette’s son, Mark- Me,
on my 30th birthday is reflecting on my life thus far, who I am,
and what will be.

Happy birthday, Mark! The years feel as if they have passed with the snap of a finger!
And even now, after all these years, I still feel like I am a beginner!
Over the years my life’s unfinished puzzle has seen many pieces fall into place, and has seen many pieces fall away.
Over the 30 years of my life I felt overwhelming hurt, loss, heartbreak;
but I have also been inspired, and have marveled at the magnificent beauty of the Milky Way.

After all these years I finally feel like I have arrived.
Because of the love and the support of my family and friends I am a better man, and it is because of them that I have thrived.
I have no doubt that the next 30 years is going to be as eventful, inspiring, and amazing;
but right now I just want to make the most of what I have,
because every day is a blessing!

The march of the poet begins the moment he sees the first light of day,
the waltz of the hopeful commences the instant he leaves his sanctuary
and dances to the tune the world loves to play.
The pilgrimage of the inspired starts the second he hears the call of his intended temple;
the quest of the explorer invigorates with the thought that his journeys end may not be inevitable.

With every step that he takes he can feel a pull of great power attracting him like a magnet;
with every blink that he makes he feels like he is rushing towards something at the velocity of a high-speed jet.
With every beat of his heart he feels as if his own pulse is effecting others
and is causing people to orbit around him;
with every sound that he hears his imagination begins a metamorphosis,
and the people and the places of the world become his adrenalin.

When he finally reaches the cathedral of his muse the whole universe just falls away-
there is no sound, there is no people, there is just natures giants,
a poet, and a perfect day.

Wake up! Wake up! You’re going to be late;
while you were sleeping destiny decided your fate:
you and your life are no longer who and what they were;
so if I were you I’d hold on tight, because things might become a blur.
Your world, your space has turned from one to zero-gravity;
your life, your path, no longer conforms to what would be called “normality”.
Your hopes, your dreams, have all now gone into overdrive-
no longer will you believe anything other than you are grateful to be alive.
While you were sleeping the song of your life became a remix;
every thought, every masterpiece of your imagining, became an intermix;
every lesson that you have learned that has prepared you for today
will stay with you for the rest of your life, and will not let you stray
from catalyzing the world into what you have always wanted it to be;
because the realization of what is to come is at the heart of your destiny.
One life. One world. Many faces to talk to many times in many places.
Any dream. Any reality. Infinite capability to achieve infinite vitality.
Now that you are awake and out of bed, I think you know what you need to do;
because only one person can be your destiny maker, and that person is you.

The Labyrinth of Life is the path we all follow-
from our first sip, to our last swallow-
we walk a trail that began long before our birth,
one which does not end until we return to the Earth.

The concept of a Labyrinth representing life is not a new idea,
in fact, similar idea’s have been around for thousands of years;
however, my arrival at the thought happened very recently,
and it was an idea that came to me independently
of previous knowledge about labyrinths, mythology, and custom-
it just seemed so logical at the time when my thoughts began to run.
I suppose the reason that I was so enamored with the thought,
is because I, like many others, have for some time sought
the answer to a question, the reason to the rhyme:
why things are the way that they are; and also how much time
do I have to complete my own Labyrinth of Life- my great work:
Is there a way that I can rework
the mistakes of my future before I make them?
or, perhaps, replay some of my past mistakes over again?
However, of course, if that were the case
it would mean that I would have to replace
all the things that stemmed from my actions as a result-
and that would be nothing short on an insult
to life, the universe, and the gift of revelation,
and would follow me all the way into my next emanation.

The Labyrinth of Life is like any labyrinth anyone has ever seen:
you enter at the beginning, and then hopefully convene
with the people at the center you have met along the way-
someone years ago, last week, or even just today,
but who you were always meant to meet, and were always going to know-
people you never knew at the start, but were to be there at the end from the word go.




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