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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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I love sitting down in Starbucks and looking around me,
I love seeing people and hearing people,
I love looking out the window,
I love listening to the song being played
and instantly being inspired to write a poem or two
of my finest poetry, while enjoying a muffin and a coffee.
I love my ritual, I love my habit of drinking a sip or two
of my drink, opening up my notebook, readying my silver pen,
on the empty page before me, looking around,
taking in what I see, and letting out what I am thinking
at that moment, and finding a convergence of parallel energies
and inspirations, and watching them come together before my eyes
and grow into a piece of art I am constantly molding
as if in clay until it becomes something recognizable, and beautiful-
even if what I am trying to say and express at first
is like a wave on the rise, and I absolutely love riding that wave,
I have to say.
I love watching my pen do all the work,
as if it has a mind and a will of its own,
and letting my imagination, mind, heart, and soul, and my breath
be taken away, as my spirit is carried away,
and when that happens to me nothing can stop me,
and no one can get in my way.

This is the life, and it is great to be able to do it if you can do it.
I am lucky to have a lot of time on my hands to connect
with some of my favourite people in the entire world
on a daily basis, and be inspired, and I am inspired
every hour of the day.
The life I am blessed to live and I are definitely a good-fit.
My hunger for knowledge and new thought,
and my awe at seeing dreams become a reality,
and witnessing people being able to do what they love
with who they love, and be happy, is a feeling inside me
that can’t ever be kept at-bay.

I see people connecting all around me, in words, in stares,
in thought, in actions, in ink, in text, in voice,
over the air, on paper, and wirelessly over the internet;
I see people enraptured in conversation in different ways,
and in different forms, and at different speeds-
all caught-up, and balancing, and feeling, and responding,
to all the vibrations that they hear and sense,
like a spider on a web.

Whenever the torrent of inspiration becomes too much,
and swamps me so much, I sometimes find it hard
to stay afloat and see everything that I need to see to keep going;
whenever I need a raft to help me traverse the raging river
that I love to ride and paddle down at full-speed,
or at a leisurely-pace, sometimes,
I only need to look at a photo of my beautiful muse,
and everything becomes clear and comes together,
and I see and I feel every part of the energy inside me,
and that which I take in from the rest of the world
in my blood, and I can’t stop my train of thought,
or my pulse, nor the endorphins in my brain,
from surging and flowing.

My muse is my saviour.
My muse is my heroine.
My muse is so caring,
and I have never met anyone in my life more braver.
My muse is my best friend, and the one who I love
in infinite ways and always,
and who vibrates effortlessly with unbounded love,
appeal, and inspiration, like no one else I have ever seen.
I am inspired every day by everything and everyone,
but without my life, my experiences, my instinct,
my family, my friends, my muse,
I would just be someone of much thought and deep feeling
and emotion who had so much to say
but who had no way of knowing it
or a means or the magic of words to say it.

I am many things to many people,
but first and foremost I am a friend
who is always here for you when you need me,
and I go by many names: Mark, Poet of the Sphere, 1066,
someone on the street who wanted my attention
even called me ‘Heisenberg’,
and I don’t mind being called any of those great names-
but I must admit, I do love it when someone sends me a message
and calls me ‘Mr. Poet’.

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