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The rain-soaked pavement shines and reflects like a mirror;
the infinite water-drops fall slowly without a sound;
the sky looks as if it is one giant grey cloud;
the wind blowing makes the trees shiver;
the people walking around are as wet as the ground;
people keep moving, the Earth keeps spinning,
life keeps growing and revitalizing-
as does everything,
and I see the evidence everywhere I look around this town.

Things start off slow at first
and then get faster and more intense with every passing moment;
the best of things take time to build;
answers to questions sometimes feel like they are coming from far-away,
like a reply to a letter that you sent;
there are lots of things to treasure and love
about living in the blessed places of this beautiful world.

The city looks like a photograph I once saw in an art gallery;
the misty countryside looks like something out of a dream;
the colourful umbrellas being held above people’s heads
bring back different, and yet connected, memories;
the air is so pure and potent to my senses-
my ears hear only music, my tongue tastes only clarity,
my nose smells only the fragrance of nature,
my eyes see things and make them seem brand new and never before seen.

The world outside through the window
looks like a moving piece of art;
the feeling inside, where it is warm and dry, is cozy;
the character of things is accentuated,
and details hit you like a dart;
the place where you want to be
becomes all that you can think about, and want for,
and you know that who you are when you are there
is you being you only.

When the roads are a river;
when the parks and the benches of open spaces are vacant;
when the way you think and feel change because of the weather;
when you can do something you want to,
but other things you simply can’t;
when life demands that you take a breath, keep calm,
be a fighter, be at rest, soldier on, take it easy,
see order and beauty in chaos,
and look and appreciate everything you see-
like the world and the rain creating a wonderful,
real, dynamic, deep, and rich, constantly-changing,
watercolour.

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Early in the morning,
as the stars shine at night,
love makes my heart sing,
music fills my life;
when I wake up and the rain is pouring,
as I drift off to sleep,
a song, a voice, a melody,
takes me to my dreams and set alight
my deep thoughts like a fire.
My dreams are epic,
my dreams are sometimes dark-
but they are more often than not
overwhelmingly insightful and bright.
My dreams have things in them that have significance
and hidden meaning-
whether it is the sight of a typewriter,
or the echo of a clocks tick,
or the sight of someone taking a photograph of me
as I am taking a picture of them-
it always amazes me what my own subconscious conjures up
during the day in the heat of the sun,
or at night when the moon is reflecting light back at the Earth
and at all of us and influencing our thoughts and fortunes.

We all go to bed with thoughts, feelings,
and inflections of the day before that is slowly drifting away,
and its events will soon have gone by and be no more
than a shadow, when all is said and done;
we all wake up the next day feeling different,
but with certain splinters in our mind
still playing on our thoughts
that we can’t rid ourselves of or shake easily-
some of us get up and try to start their day
and free ourselves of any lingering worries or concerns
with a daily morning run,
some of us sit up in bed and listen to music,
watch TV, read a book, write poetry,
someone of us take hold of our favourite instrument
and play to our hearts content,
some of us just sit and cry on our own,
just so we can vent.

Talking is important;
connections are essential;
letting out and letting go
can be like the cool water from a font;
remembering the people you love,
and where you want to be,
because they are to you the most wonderful and the most special,
needs to be, must be, will always be-
and that is why you must run, walk, look, see,
the magic all around in the daylight;
that is why you must run into the ocean of the unknown;
that is why you need to touch and feel a part of the light;
that is why you must be fearless, bold, and brave,
and let the world and everything in it fill your life.

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Is what I am seeing really happening?
Is what I am feeling really true?
What was there a minute ago has disappeared in the wind.
What I felt touching my face has melted away
and dissolved from view.

The sun has come out,
the snow that fell like a blizzard not long ago
hasn’t even left a snowflake on the ground
to remember it by.
People keep going,
the wheels keep turning,
the tea and the coffee is kept pouring,
the songs keep playing;
people love making a forthright choice
without any lingering or doubt;
friends keep saying hello,
companions always have to say goodbye.

There is no such thing as a bottomless cup.
There is no such thing as a winter without end.
Things don’t ever stop fascinating you about life
and about how the world works,
even when we realize and we know that we are a grown-up-
a sudden surprise event or incident that you never saw coming
doesn’t ever stop making your heart beat fast,
like meeting a new friend.

Interpretation can be an illusion.
What we think we see may not actually be there.
Not every answer to a question is a solution.
Sometimes life can be and can seem
like a non-stop game of truth or dare.

Things are important to us.
People are what keep us going.
We can lose our things,
we can lose touch with people,
we can lose focus,
we can forget where it was we were originally going,
because we got so lost in what we were doing.

Sometimes we can become hypnotized,
when we look into someone’s eyes we can become mesmerized.
When we look at our lives it can seem like a collage.
When we look at what is happening in the world
and all around us,
sometimes everything can feel like we are looking at a mirage.

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When I first began on the path
I was like the statue that I was standing next to;
when I first looked at what I could see before me,
I couldn’t see anything or anyone-
but at the same time I felt this draw,
I felt the edge of this wave coming towards me,
as if the path were a river,
or like the wind outside an open door;
I felt something in the cold air that took my breath away from me-
like the chill that you feel from a draft.
I knew that I either had to close the door or walk through it,
or perhaps turn back and walk away;
and then, right then, I heard you, I saw you,
I knew I had to be where you were,
but I knew you were not at the end of the path- you couldn’t be-
because that would be impossible;
but I have never believed anything is truly impossible,
and I have never, and will never, give up hope on anything or anybody ever;
and that was when all my answers came to me.

The sun was above me and behind me,
and its light guided my way and made the path shimmer and glow.
The trees that lined the path on either side
moved and jostled in unison for a second,
and as they did, for an instant, I could have sworn
that I was somewhere else, in another place, at another time-
like I was reliving a memory,
but which I didn’t recognise as being mine,
it felt like someone else’s thought,
it felt like yours-
and that was when I knew I had to walk the path.
I could see the end that awaited me,
and I knew where I had to go.

It had been raining earlier,
and there was still a slight and fine mist in the air.
As the rays of golden light from the sun
bounced off the wet ground rainbows appeared
and veiled the path in every colour of the spectrum;
and that was when I felt caught and pulled,
as if by a current, or as if the very ground beneath me
was moving by itself and taking me along with it.
Walking the path as it appeared now made me think,
feel, and experience the sensation of walking
through a hall of mirrors at a fun fare.

I heard nothing but the sound of a slight breeze through the trees,
but there was also this faint echo
that seemed to be getting loauder and stronger
the farther I walked and the closer I got to there end of the path-
the echo was a voice, your voice;
the drumming I felt was my own heart beating.
As I passed the empty black painted benches with the brown wooden seats,
I thought for a second I could see someone sitting there
looking at me, or reading, or listening to their own music-
like impressions, echoes, or shadows in the sunlight,
left and preserved forever-
like a moment of emotion and contenment captured in time,
that may fade but wont ever be forgotten
and will draw back those who made those impressions
to this spot, time and again.

As I neared the end of the path,
I felt lost and consumed by the flow of energy all around me-
and like when you swim out to sea,
I felt compelled to turn back and look at the path behind me,
and in that moment that was when I literally felt your vibration,
because that was when I saw, realized, and then read
a message from you that you had just sent me-
and in that message was a picture of your smiling face
that you wanted to share with me,
and also a text from you telling me that you love me.

I instantly replied to you with a photo of me smiling
on the path in the park and a message from me
that ‘I love you too’, and as soon as I sent you that message
there was a blinding flash of light,
and as I turned around to look at the rest of the path in front of me
I saw that the path didn’t end as near or as soon as I originally thought,
and I suddenly had this epiphany that these next few steps
in the beautiful sunlight were not my, or our, last;
and I saw that there wasn’t an end or a definitive finish line
to where I was, where I am going, so that is why I kept going,
looking, feeling, and smiling, as I continued to walk the path.

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I can’t tell you what just happened;
I can’t say with complete certainty
what everything all means;
I can’t make sense why things are the way they are,
because none of what occurred was in no way planned.
I can’t forget what was said, because it meant so much-
it still does;
I can’t be someone I am not-
no matter how hard I try, no matter what direction I try to go in,
I feel in limbo, stuck in quick sand, frozen in-between,
and no one can understand how hard it is for me to not think
about the fractured mirror of my memories
that can’t ever be reformed whole in the same way again-
because there are shards and pieces missing,
and the glass will now always be covered in cracks.

It’s raining outside today.
I am crying a monsoon of tears inside.
The weather is symbolic and an expression of how I am feeling-
cold, clouded, grey, uncertain, depressing;
I can’t help but question what people have said to me in the past
and rethink their sentiments,
and I wish I could restore so easily what I have lost
and what has been taken away, because I can’t take back and collect
all the tears that I have cried.

I just want the sun to come out and burn away the clouds
and make things how they were again;
I just want to know without any doubt that I am not going mad,
that I didn’t just imagine the world that I saw
and thought I knew;
I just don’t want to be told what I want to hear-
I want what I have always wanted:
a life to share with someone, inspiration, friends, family, love,
and a happy new year.

The future feels more uncertain now than it has ever been-
there is still hope, light, energy, holding on to me,
sustaining me, reminding me that not all that we lose is lost forever,
and right now that is what I need.

I wont walk away.
I wont forget.
I wont delete anyone from my life.
I wont retouch or alter the picture emblazoned in my head.
I wont stop hoping.
I wont stop believing.
I wont tear up anything and throw it in the bin.
I will come to understand what has happened one day, I am sure,
but until then I will remember everything,
and go back and figure out what has changed and why,
and perhaps what I could have and should have seen and done something about,
but the question is: where do I begin?

1/1/2014,
Starbucks, Coventry

My day began by catching a spider in a cup that was in the bath,
and then taking them outside and releasing them
slowly onto the damp pavement.
After I watched the spider walk away,
I re-entered my house, shut the door behind me,
but I couldn’t stop thinking about the spider-
it wasn’t fear, I stopped being afraid of spiders a long time ago,
it was curiosity, I think:
this instant thought about where they came from,
where they are going, what their life consisted of,
and how our lives, although different in some respects,
were so similar.

Walking in the rain returns me to yesterday.
The touch of the long grass between my fingers,
the feeling of the wind on my face,
the softness of the green grass that I am walking on-
memories flood back to me, I am tranquil, I am warm,
I am full of energy and life,
because I am standing in the most beautiful and perfect place.

The sun breaks through the clouds
and its golden rays instantly accentuate the colour that is always there.
Walking through Brueton Park, passed the glistening water of the pond,
crossing the wooden bridge that joins the lush green banks
of the River Blythe,
taking in a breath, I am instantly struck by the beautiful
and intoxicating smell of the freshly-mown grass in the air,
and I am reminded that in order to fully-appreciate what you have
you have to share what you experience every second
with as many people as possible-
because they too will thank you and fully-appreciate
the gift that we all cherish,
the connected moments of being alive.

Memories, photographs, recollections, moments in time,
are so important to hold on to,
because they are us, they are our lives,
they are what put the spark in the eye of humanity,
they are precious, small, forgettable,
but they are also insightful, inspiring, breath-taking, and immense.
Hold on to what you can, don’t throw anything away,
don’t take even the seemingly insignificant of encounters
and take them for granted,
bottle them up in your mind for a rainy day,
return to them often, and relive the experience.

As the bell tolled ten,
as I stood at the twilight cloister between knowledge and faith,
staring up at a sculpture of a victorious St. Michael
standing over a defeated Devil,
inspiration came to me then and echoed through the space,
and I found myself there-after standing on another level.
The ground beneath me was like a river,
the rain did not stop falling for a second;
for an instant, I began to shiver;
when the chimes ended, I thought I heard my own inner-voice
say something, as if it were trying to respond.
There was no lightning-bolt that struck nearby,
but nevertheless I saw a flash of light
which I interpreted as being insight-
cloud and rain was all that I could see in the sky,
and even though it was morning it felt more like night.
I was transfixed by the university, by the nearby fountain,
by the stone spheres that were on the path before me,
and by the imposing cathedral-
even in this light everything looked so beautiful.
I wanted so much to understand what I was feeling,
but my heart could not tell me;
I wanted so much to share this inner-light with someone else,
but there was no one to be seen.
I stood for a few more minutes in silence,
and then I felt my feet and my legs
regain the knowledge of their function
and propel me on my path again.
I don’t think that I will ever forget that moment
outside Coventry Cathedral and Coventry University, in the rain,
as the bell tolled ten.

As red poppy petals fall through the air
against a perfect bright-blue sky;
life-long soldiers watch with tears in their eyes,
children look up in wonder-
the smiling faces of boys and girls are of pure joy,
while the haunted faces of the battle-scarred
can only look-on as they hear the sound of distant thunder.

A storm begins. The raindrops that fall are slow in their descent,
and when they hit the ground they are almost unnoticeable;
then, within seconds, the droplets multiply,
the clouds darken- turning day into night-
and the wind wails like a weeping angel.
The rain is like a curtain,
a screen showing the power of an untamable nature-
the spectacle is so incredible that people in offices at work,
and people looking out of a window at home,
have to open a door or a window,
because to them this is a ground-breaking, amazing,
summer show of a feature.
Lightning creates patterns of light and sound
against black clouds the colour of outer-space-
that make you feel like you are under the influence
and the control of something that can stop you in your tracks
and make your heart race.

Two different skies, not that far apart.
One sky, two different people from two different worlds,
but who are of the same world, and who have the same heart.

We live on a shared world,
we all live a shared life,
we share a history with one-another
even though we may never meet face-to-face,
and we all share the knowledge, the feeliing,
and the gift of being alive.

No matter how young or old you are,
no matter if you have been blessed your entire life with everything,
or whether you have lost your sight-
the thing within you that makes you who you are never goes away,
and can be felt in someones voice,
or seen in the twinkle in someones eyes,
if you listen for, and if you look for, the light.

Walking in the rain,
watching the world as it passes me by,
considering the questions of life that I can’t explain,
I think about the future, and why it is important to say goodbye.
For every raindrop that falls,
I consider the countless events that are occurring every second all around me,
what would the world sound like
if I could hear the beats of every heart-
would I feel like a lone swimmer in the middle of a vast sea.
For every step that I take,
I think about all of the decisions that I have made
that have led me to my path;
how fortunate I am to have had the set-backs, the obstacles,
and, most importantly, the blessings-
which are infinite in number,
and are as numerous as the total number of soap bubbles in a bubble-bath.

This is the season of change;
this is the season of transition;
this is the season of the wonderful and the strange;
this is the season when plans and dreams come into fruition.
New air is moving in of the same aroma
as that of a rainstorm after a week of hot summer days;
a new era has begun that promises the continuation,
and also the beginning of progress
that will affect people all over the world in many different ways.

People are moving on;
people are just being discovered;
people will not truly be missed until it is noticed that they are gone;
people are spreading their wings and leaving behind their feathers
to be found by others, like those of a mythical bird.
This is the season of choice;
this is the season when we are asked for our response,
so as to make a reality the potential of our ambition;
this is the season when people find their voice;
this is the season in which planets, and people,
make a transition.

Cool are the raindrops that fall upon my skin,
dark are the clouds in the sky above me;
welcome is the touch of purity on my lips,
cleansing are the tears of the sky
that I can feel, but which I can barely see.
I am standing in my garden wearing only my Nike’s,
my jeans, and my favourite black T-shirt;
I am standing still with a smile on my face
completely saturated to the bone and feeling an intense sense of hurt.
Where this feeling has come from I cannot at first discern;
however, I was compelled to step out into this rainstorm for a reason,
and at the time I remember thinking that I was going to combust and burn
if I did not walk out into the open air
and allow the elements to soothe my pain,
and that is why I chose to free myself of logical reason
and shower in the effervesce of the rain.
People may think me mad, but I am in my element-
I have always felt at home in a downpour
and this one feels like an exceptionally epic event.
A mist of energy and water-vapour engulf and immerse me,
and as I close my eyes, stretch out my arms,
and hold my face up high to the sky,
I can perceive a weight and a cloud the size of planet Earth
evaporate from my body and be set free.
And as the rain continues to pour,
I feel like I have been reborn, renewed, and transmogrified-
I open my eyes, staring up as the raindrops hitting my irises,
I wipe the tears from my face, and yet again I smile with realization
as I throw open my arms wide.
The rain abates and finally stops,
leaving me soaking wet, freezing,
but feeling more alive and more excited than my first day of school-
the arousing smell of petrichor is in the air and all-around,
and I feel content, complete, and cool.

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