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Something special,
something wonderful;
someone beautiful,
someone inspirational;
something invoking,
something flowing;
someone there,
someone who is like air.

Everything has an origin;
everyone has a birth;
everything and anything can be a win;
everyone is a product of the Earth.
Everything is a window;
everyone is a walking and talking autobiography;
everything can tell you what you want to know;
everyone has the right to be happy.

Something unexpected;
someone addictive;
something you have known and have held on to since you were kid;
someone who you enjoy, love, live, think about,
share, have to hold, and jive with;
something outrageous;
someone gifted;
something dangerous;
someone who feeds on life,
like the world relies on a constant charge from a power-grid.

Everything is multi-cultural;
everyone, at who and what they know they are, is a natural;
everything is fragile;
everyone is renewable,
and they can be someone,
and something, special.

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There are morning stars,
there is morning music,
there are morning flights,
there is morning light,
there are morning people,
there is morning life waking up in cities,
towns, villages, homes, rooms, apartments, houses,
in families, in beds, in nature, in nests, in barns,
peacefully, calmly, dreamily,
and sometimes with a shock or a fright-
morning time for some is the best and the most wonderful,
for some when they wake up and they look out the window
the world looks as if it could stretch to infinity.

There are morning moments that can’t be replayed
at any other time of the day;
there are morning delights that make you smile;
there are morning voices and faces
that tell you that everything is going to be ok;
there are morning trials that you must sometimes run through
to make everything that you do worthwhile.

There is morning inspiration;
there is morning fascination;
there is morning creation;
there is morning elevation;
there is morning gravitation;
there is morning communication;
there is morning articulation;
there is morning anticipation;
there is morning illumination;
there are morning constellations,
still bright in the sky and shining,
as they have been for a million years;
there is a new day that I always enjoy exploring;
there are beautiful morning views that bring you to tears;
there is a miraculous magic to be found
in the light, the sounds, the time, the rituals,
of every morning.

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‘Goodbye’ is the saddest word there is;
saying goodbye is the hardest thing
you will ever have to do in your life;
goodbye can seem like a full-stop,
and a reminder of all the things about someone and you
that you have in common that you are going to miss;
saying goodbye is something that I run away from doing
and I will do anything to avoid,
like a magician trying to make sure
he isn’t hit by fast-flying knives.

The season is ending;
people are going their separate ways;
relationships are fading;
people are making a new start somewhere else,
and are saying that “I hope we will see each other again some day.”

I don’t want to see anybody leave
the places where I always know they are going to be;
I don’t want things to change,
but I don’t want to stop anyone
from doing what they must do-
I don’t want want to think or say anything selfishly,
because I do want everyone to be happy,
and I have always been a big believer
that nothing and no one that was born free
should ever be restrained and held in a cage.

I could not live with myself
if I thought that I were holding someone back;
I cannot think of worse prospect
than not being able to follow
the energy and the path of your passion-
support, love, belief, in me and of me,
is something I have always had;
inspiration, happiness, contentment,
a sense of belonging,
are things that I would never dream to ration.

I will never be able to truly say “goodbye”,
to say “see you later”, to say “see you in another life”,
or to say “remember me, and don’t forget me”,
with a straight-face to someone,
without having a tear of sadness welling up in my eye;
I know that life is a cycle,
I know that people have to go sometimes,
but I will never like or want to truly be
a part of the cycle of goodbye.

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When you are a child
the future seems like a far-away country,
as you grow up you become interested in many different things;
when you look around and everything and everybody
is telling you that you have to make a choice
about what you want to do,
and what you want to make of your life,
as your compass turns and becomes fixed on a particular direction
that even just the thought of always makes you happy,
and you cannot deny the flutter in your heart
and the surge of positivity in your mind that it brings,
you know that you have found the stepping stones,
the stride, the rhythm, and the trampoline
that you need to take you high.

It can be hard to find your way,
sometimes you have to try to truly know
if something feels right;
it can feel like a miracle
when you get an idea in your mind
about the epic possibilities that are so close you can touch them,
and those that never go away;
sometimes you need to imagine something before it can happen;
you have to mute the voice of non-believers around you
who tell you to stop dreaming-
because although there opinion may be cautionary,
the only opinion that is the most important
is that of your heart,
and that is one you should never fight.

Life-changing and amazing things happen to you
when you find your obsession, your passion,
your intuition, your reason,
fate comes to fruition
when you walk with a piece of magic inside you,
and your touch changes the life of someone else,
and gives a gift of wonder like that of a magician.

Looking, listening, thinking, believing,
seeing, making, inspiring, embracing,
accepting, changing, awaking, racing,
and before you know it
your life is noticeably and infinitely amazing,
and better and more phenomenal and special
than what you had always been imagining.

Time is the first gift
that we are all given at birth,
and it is up to us all to do with it what we will
before the lids of our eyes become too heavy for us to lift-
so, be incredible, be inspiring, be indispensable,
be as fast as lightning:
whether you are destined to be a manual-worker,
a clerk, a painter, a manager, a teacher,
or someone who has the power to change the world
and weave a tapestry of hope
that is bestowed to the most gifted of wordsmiths.

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When the morning light hit my face,
and I slowly began to open my eyes;
when I got out of bed,
and I looked in the mirror,
I immediately flashed back to the night before,
and the face I saw and the memory of the look in my eye
that I cannot erase-
the one that said, and always says to me: embrace life,
and let the constant adventure that you are on
take you far and take you high.

At the end of the day,
when the sun has set and it is officially night,
people change like the colour of the sky changes
from blue to black-
the choices you make, the things you do,
what you intake, what you say and listen to,
are different than at any other time of the day,
and people can act like a completely different person
when they can let their hair down,
and drop their guard,
and let their intoxicated instincts guide them
to varying expressions of their own colourful inner-light.

Some people don’t remember hardly anything
after a long night that turns into a morning of crawling;
some people can drink a lot and remember everything;
some people when they drink cannot stop talking;
some people when they are inebriated dance, laugh,
take off their clothes,
sometimes they wrap their arms around everyone,
and when they hear a great song being played
they let their voice be heard loud
and they sing like The King.

A night on the town;
an experience of visiting and going
to many different venues, places, clubs, and bars;
a night of laughs, music,
and pictures of friends enjoying themselves
and acting like clowns,
are great to remember and remind yourself of,
as long as at the end of the night
you don’t end up somewhere where you didn’t really want to be-
like in the back of a police car.

All good things must come to an end,
and so must a long, but great, and fun night;
flashes of what happened and what was said
rise to the surface of your consciousness
and can fill you with both regret and relief;
every night is short, every night is different, every night is brief-
however, every night counts,
and as the sun rises and the dark becomes the light and bright,
just remember that somewhere, at all times of the day on Earth,
and constantly in space, we, like the world we live on,
are constantly turning, spinning, and existing,
in a perpetual night.

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As I dream at night,
when I wake up in the morning,
as I walk in the sun, and in the rain,
through forests of trees,
and along streets of light,
I hear a sound,
I feel a calling,
I decipher the chaos,
I feel on fire,
I see, read, and imagine poetry,
in every leaf, in every smile,
in every look, in every raindrop-
the energy of the world gets into my veins,
the inspiration of the universe
makes me feel like the king of the cosmos,
everybody I know and everything about them,
and all that I know, has my imagination and thoughts
jetting off faster and higher than an airplane,
and just as I am right now-
everything twists around me
and I feel like I am in the eye of a storm,
seeing and watching things that appear fractured
from the outside looking in
come together and fuse forever
like a blanket of frost.

I will never forget the moment I heard the sound;
I will never forget who inspired my voice;
I will never forget the shock-wave that I felt,
like a lightning-bolt hitting the ground;
I will never forget who I was and who I knew
I would always be- as a matter of destiny, not choice;
I will never forget what began, what came first,
and what it was like to instantly feel
like all this time I had been traveling through the heavens,
but I just hadn’t realized it;
I will never forget the moment I became the poet.

The journey has been bumpy;
the road hasn’t always been smooth;
the sky above and my vision has on occasion been cloudy;
however, I have not stood still, I have kept on the move;
I have written about love,
I have written about loss,
I even wrote a poem once about a lost glove;
and every day I write with a pen and paper,
or I create something with my soul
on the canvas of my mind, with all my heart,
and I am consumed, happy, free of fear,
alive with life and inspiration-
like I have emerged from the waves of a sea
and I am now walking in the soft sand of the wash.

When you realize that you have a gift;
when people tell you that you should pursue your talent
and see where it takes you;
when you know that you have something to offer someone
who needs what you have inside you
you can feel your own heart racing in your chest
and your pulse beating in your wrist;
when you see truth, hope, purpose, potential, and goodness,
emanating like an aura from certain people
that you are fortunate to meet,
the things and the people who give us so much
are who we too want to do all for and give back to.

The ‘Poet of the Sphere’ is who I will always be,
and the first book of my poetry
is only the first chapter, the first volume,
the first teaser, of the whole story that is me;
now, I am stepping into the future
with memories and experiences from my life,
hoping to share who I will always be in the light of the day
as well as in the twilight of the dark,
and you can be sure that when you read
or hear the voice of the Poet of the Sphere,
you will forever know, and you will forever recognize,
the unmistakable sound of Mark.

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I have always thought that we should
truly listen intently to the young,
because the young, especially children,
make a point to say what is on their mind;
I have always thought that the best thing about being young
is that you do not need to worry about anything,
nor think too much, and just live,
learn, look, sample, and have fun,
be adventurous without knowing it,
look in every direction- not just forwards, or behind.

Every child sometimes forgets to look left and right
when they are crossing a road,
and sometimes than can walk away
by the skin of their teeth after a close encounter;
every child wants to be out and about with their friends-
whether it is a hot day of sun,
or a cold day of freezing snow;
every child is a not-so-secret natural explorer.

Children have no concept of time;
to a child the next day feels like a life-time away;
children have no thought of right or wrong, gift or crime;
to a child every day is like playing a game.

Every child attends a different school of thought
depending on where they live
and what they have been taught since the day they were born;
every child ultimately can only go on their own journey-
but the more a child has to choose
the more that they can feel torn;
and, to me, a child does need guidance
from those that they respect and trust,
but without too much of a push,
and letting them figure things out for themselves,
children always do find their feet.

A child from Africa can inspire the entire world
to think about others before themselves;
a group of friends from China can come together
from all different backgrounds
and dream of doing things, and going places,
and taking the rest of the world with them;
a little girl from Hawaii can hear the voice of the Earth
when they listen to the sound they find within a seashell;
a boy from Canada can one day be holding tightly
and looking down at his favourite toy,
and then one day years later in the future
take one simple thought that comes to him,
and realize that he could change the world
for every child and for all future children.

The life and the time of a child is precious,
and before you know it things get complicated,
and they can slowly start to lose their tender touch,
and they can worry about who they see in the mirror;
it is only natural to think
about why things are the way they are,
but you just have to hold on to things
for as long as you possibly can-
because before you know it
everything, slowly but surely,
falls through your fingers.

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My favourite song is playing on the radio;
I am drinking my favourite drink, in my favourite place;
my thoughts are in over-drive,
as I sit, looking around, with a smile on my face;
it’s raining outside, but life is sweet
and I am happy and warm inside- like hot raspberry jam;
I am having a flashback and a flash-forward,
between a happy little boy,
and a content old man.

I have always felt like a conduit;
I have always sought out and shared;
I have always believed that you can carry everything you need,
most of the time, in your trouser pockets;
I have always gone to the edge,
taken a risk, and gone farther sometimes than others might choose to dare,
in thoughts, in feelings, on foot, on a path
that never doubles back on itself-
but the things that happen on it do feel strangely familiar;
life is a playground of spins, swings, ups, and downs,
tears, smiles, pain, and laughter-
so it is never a surprise to me that things reoccur.

In this day and age, everybody is looking for a power-point,
a place to plug-in and recharge;
everyday, everybody, wherever they are,
take advantage of the free,
the seemingly-indispensable, the small, the large;
today, right now, a billion years ago, always,
life in all its forms makes the most of what it has
and what surrounds it, and everything reacts and adapts
to certain things, at certain times, in a myriad of ways.

Things have a history;
you can always find a pattern to follow;
the definitive meaning of life will always be a mystery;
but what everybody and everything really needs to know
is always with you and inside you wherever you go.

You can’t go around life, you can only go through it;
you can’t hide yourself forever,
because one day someone will unlock your soul,
and read your mind, and know your heart better than anyone,
and make you realize that you too are a conduit.

 

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There are times in your life
when you need a push;
there are times in your day
when you need a boost;
there are times in order to get things done
you have to do them in a rush;
there are times when you have to take a breath
and say “what do I have to lose?”.

We all would love a life of no demands;
we all would love to have a life of no worries;
we all would love to explore at our own pace
the wonders of far-away lands;
we all would love to live a simple life sometimes,
perhaps in a log-cabin in the middle of a forest,
with enough of what we need for a year or two,
surrounded by the sounds, the air,
the smells of nature, and to be able to fall asleep
every night listening to the music of the wind
blowing and rustling the leaves of the trees.

To retreat is not to surrender;
to find a place to rest and collect yourself
is what you have got to do;
to find peace is to find splendor;
to have the time to breath in deep,
and then dive into something head-first
is the indulgent gift of lucky and fortunate few.

Feeling relief can make you feel lighter;
spending time with your favourite person
in the whole world can renew your spirit;
allowing yourself to be dazzled can help you climb higher;
thinking about the possibilities that you know
are within the reach of your grasp,
because of what you have done to get where you are,
can and will give you all that you need
to stop obsessing the what if’s and just do it.

Time is sometimes of the essence;
obligations and commitments are a way of life for everybody;
there is a genuine lesson to be learnt
from the virtue of patience;
you life can feel so much more rewarding when you have a shared hobby.

You have got to make time for work;
you have got to make time for leisure and pleasure;
you have got to make time for perfecting
the unique joys of your own characteristic quirks;
you have to make time to say ‘whatever’,
and know no pressure.

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There are always possibilities;
the future is not set in stone;
what we see and what we find
is sometimes beyond what we have dreamed about
in our fantasies;
what we build can last and endure for thousands of years,
like the Colosseum in Rome.

People and structures cast shadows
when the light of the sun is shining behind them;
thoughts and ideas are expressed instantly
when there is a phenomenal desire to share them;
music and poetry is the natural art of the soul
made tangible to ever sense of perception;
emotions and feelings always find a way
to give you some much-needed inspiration redemption.

Hope never dies;
those who fall must always try to get back up;
it’s good to smile, it’s good to cry;
you have to start at the bottom
to fully-appreciate what it takes to rise to the top.

You are always someone’s idea of perfection;
someone will always look back at you
and think of you as a dream come true;
you will always be the drug of someone’s addiction;
someone will do anything, and they will go anywhere,
just so that they can be happy-
and the reason that they are happy
is because they are with you.

We all go through things that are personal to us;
we are all at times affected and afflicted by the fever
and the cure of life;
we all remember what we have lost,
but what is important to you and to everything
is the thing that you take with you to sleep every night.

When you are out in the open,
staring out to the sea,
looking up at the clear blue sky,
or watching nature close-up maintain its never-ending cycle,
that keeps going, and keeps turning, and spinning,
like a multi-coloured, deeply-ingrained, album of vinyl;
when there is a light behind you
in place of a light and a direction to guide you,
you can always know where you are
and what time of your life it is
by looking around you and seeing the shape of the shadows
besides you and coming from you,
like telling the time by a sun dial.

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