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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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That look into each others eyes,
that ring on your fingers,
that look that keeps you hypnotized,
that symbol of unity that reminds you every day
that out of all the people taking part
in the contest of love and life
you two won the prize to be with each other forever.

Being with each other just feels so natural,
being with each other just feels meant to be,
being with each other every day
feels like you have discovered life’s pinnacle,
being with each other every day
is something no one else could possibly understand,
because you see things in one-another, about one-another,
that no one else could possibly see.

When you know someone as well as you two do
you would think that there is nothing else for you to learn
about each other,
how could anything possibly be new?
However, every day, no matter how long you have been together,
no matter how long you spend together,
you do see and discover an untold secret
that was just waiting for the right time
to show itself and come to light-
that is the most amazing and wonderful thing
about being in a relationship, being in love,
committing yourself to the well-being of each other,
and wanting to spend all and every hour of the day
sharing anything and everything
from the early hours of the morning
to the twilight hours of the night.

A life together is never easy,
but its meaning and its effect on you
and on your life can never be replicated;
a life apart is torture in comparison-
especially when you know for certain and without doubt
that you were both the reason that through everything
you have been through separately and together,
what happened needed to happen, and that is why life waited
to gift you your soul-mate, your life-partner,
the one who needs you in their life
as much as you need to be in theirs,
who scrambles all other frequencies
but the one you need to hear-
more so than a solar flare.

Being together means something greater;
being together means that no matter what happens
you two can be a light-house for each other through any weather;
being together, being one, is more than a name,
it is more than a signature on a dotted-line;
being together is something special,
and what that means is something
that you don’t have to think about
because it is there with you both,
and it is something that no matter how hard you try
you can’t put on a piece of paper.

I wonder if I am alone, and if it is just me;
but when I stare at a blank piece of paper, do you know what I see-
beyond the obvious, of course, beyond the blank slate that it appears:
I see a doorway, a window, a potential muse to new frontiers.
A blank sheet of paper, that at first seemingly has no depth,
is bigger on the inside, and to me is as rejuvenating as life’s breath;
while on the surface appearing flat, white, and pliable,
a blank sheet of paper’s ability to go anywhere or anywhen is undeniable.
From the first word written, from the first brush stroke of paint,
there is no force of nature, or any conceived physical restraint,
that can bound the imagination of an artist or a writer
when presented with a sheet of paper and an idea.
Their is no artist, poetic, lyricist, or musician,
whose imagination engine would not go into ignition,
when presented with a single A4 sized blank slate,
with the opportunity to write and to create
something brand new, something never before heard, seen, or read-
artistically, musically, or poetically, trying to unravel a loose thread
that began as a thought, and then became a reality,
turning that once blank sheet of paper into a formality;
because in no time at all it is in itself a work of art,
that was simply waiting for you to create it, and unveil it from the start.

TARDIS

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