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Some people find perfection in stillness;
some people find perfection in silence;
some people find perfection in chaos;
some people find perfection in the instance
that they find balance.

Some people find perfection on a beach;
some people find perfection in a smile;
some people find perfection in what lies out of reach;
some people find perfection in a mosaic picture of broken tiles.

Some people find perfection in a photograph;
some people find perfection in a sunset;
some people find perfection in the sound of someone’s laugh;
some people find perfection in the sound of a clarinet.

Some people find perfection in a meal;
some people find perfection in a ceremony;
some people find perfection in being able to heal;
some people find perfection in the flowers, fruit, and leaves of a tree.

Some people find perfection in a waterfall;
some people find perfection in a coral reef;
some people find perfection in art painted on a wall;
some people find perfection in a recurring motif.

Some people find perfection in sharing;
some people find perfection in keeping something a secret;
some people find perfection in being daring;
some people find perfection in keeping the things
that no one would ever have thought to have kept.

Some people find perfection in words;
some people find perfection in music;
some people find perfection in telling someone something
they have never heard;
some people find perfection in the people, the places,
and the things that will forever be perfectly imperfect.

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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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A lot of people in this world do things because they have to,
so many people live a life having to do things-
jobs, commitments, obligations, promises-
that they might not want to do, but they have to do,
to live, to survive, to provide, to save,
so that they can eventually do all the things
that they have been dreaming about doing,
and perhaps no longer have to live the life of a lie.

Most people don’t ask for things these days, they expect them.
Most people don’t understand, haven’t been taught, or have forgotten,
that sometimes to get what you want you may have to give something
first before you get something back-
some people extend their hand involuntarily, always expecting
to shake the tree, and there always be something for them to catch.

If you can do something that you love
and give something at the same time to someone
that they may not and would not ask for,
but they need more than anything,
even if they don’t realize it themselves at the time
they are face to face with you-
that is the most amazing thing you can do in a day,
or in a life-time, because the art of giving
is also the art of sharing,
and the art of creating, making, shaping, translating,
raising, facing, saying, aiding,
at the right time, when someone really needs
what you have to offer freely is an alternative
that you don’t have to choose-
it is something you can just do.

Sharing what you have in abundance, to me, is natural,
and if you can possibly do something, anything,
for someone in need- why would you not want to give all that you can?

Begging is not asking,
asking is not begging.
Sometimes doing something in the moment because you can,
and without even thinking, can be the difference
between seeing someone on the ground looking up at you
and you keeping their heart afloat
and their hopes high and their spirits from sinking.
Giving and giving back without expectation-
that is the difference between asking and begging.

Every second we are transmitting;
every minute we are all broadcasting;
every hour we are all receiving;
every day we all sharing and revealing.

Every morning I feel something I have never felt before
and I reach out;
every morning I write something I might have said
a thousand times before,
but every time I say it again I mean it even more than before,
and to me it is like an ice cube that will never melt.

I have a tendency to repeat myself,
to watch something, and read something, over and over,
and to listen to a song continuously on its own
or part of a playlist;
I love seeing, hearing, and remembering,
things, music, people, places, memories, song-lyrics-
especially when all those wonderful things
combine into one perfect moment-
like the time you are listening to one of your favourite songs
while looking into the eyes of the one you love,
and sharing your first kiss.

I am addicted to communication, and sharing a connection.
If I think, read, see, or hear something
I feel other people would respond to, love,
like, and share too, I get so much pleasure in writing,
tagging, re-blogging, texting, and tweeting, messaging,
a link, a quote, a photo, a picture,
or writing a poem about it,
and seeing the ripple-effect of reactions.

I could talk for hours about hundreds of different things
and have a myriad of opinions about everything-
from religion to literature, from music to television;
I could talk for days about who I have met in my life,
what happened, and what I have seen, where I have been,
and what I heard, and why I was inspired,
because I chose to stop and listen.

Everyone and every thing has a story.
Every life, every love, every heart-break,
every inspirational, magic moment is a song, a musical,
a novel, a poem, a piece of art,
waiting in the wings to be released.
Every person, every leaf, every animal, every coffee bean,
every planet, every cloud, every fish, every grain of sand,
is on a journey, and that shared journey is a journey
of growth, motivation, reflection, impression, disconnection,
reconnection, intuition, in infinite ways,
and with infinite gifts of communication.

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I have changed. I have really changed-
so much so that people who see me nearly everyday
have physically noticed this change in me,
and have even commented about it,
some people say that they have never seen me more happy,
and they are right:
I am in a season of my life,
in which questions have become answers,
deep connections have been made,
days spent thinking and dreaming and being myself
with someone else and sharing a very personal, special,
truthful, innocence, that I don’t always feel comfortable
showing and bringing out into the light.

Things are more different for me now than they have ever been.
I feel different in every aspect of myself-
not in the defining, fundamental, ways,
but I am definitely showing people
that have known me for a while
sides to me that they have never seen.

It’s a great, inspiring, fun, exciting,
adventurous, amazing, confusing, full, exhilarating,
weird, wonderful, roller-coaster ride of a time
in my time right now-
one in which I am meeting incredible, inspiring,
beautiful, amazing, new people-
one person in particular-
who have genuinely made me feel things and say things
that I have never felt or said before;
a time in which I am discovering new music, new art,
new literature, new ways of enjoying all the things
that life is all about.

Right now, things feel different again-
gone is the confusion, the fog, the static, the pain.
I truly feel like I have come “full-circle”,
but with a gift in my life now to remind me always
about what happened in the previous revolution
that I hope will forever be there to go to talk to,
to talk with, to help work out the inner-workings
of everything with, to be myself with,
without the extra air-supply, protection, trappings,
and necessities, that most people need to survive
these days in the deep depths of life’s ocean.

There is nowhere more heavenly than a bookstore,
there is nowhere better than a place where
you are surrounded in every direction by books
by inspired, genius, and amazing writers- who had a thought,
and who then evolved that idea into something transcendental,
that could touch the heart of another human being
and serve as a magic door to far-off worlds,
different realities, understanding why people do what they do.

I just love picking up a book, holding it in my hand,
staring at the cover, thinking about the title,
and flicking through it-
taking in everything about the book
before I think about potentially buying it:
the feel of the pages, the description on the dust-cover,
the “weight” of the book, even though that might sound strange-
sometimes I have bought a book
solely because I saw something inside while I was flicking through
that jumped up at me from a page.

I love being around other writers, young and old;
I love a story, or an author, that I haven’t heard of before;
I love reading a book’s dedication that sounds like pure gold;
I love picking up a new book by an author I already know,
buying their book and being completely in-awe.

A bookstore is my sanctuary.
A bookstore smells more incredible and amazing than anywhere on Earth.
Just being in the company of powerful words incased and bound
and there to be read whenever and wherever anyone feels the need
is invigorating, to me-
when I first walk into a bookstore though,
I always find it hard to come up with an answer to the question:
where should I start first?

I love a forest. I love a library.
I love buying a great book and sharing it with a friend
after I have read every word and found an answer to a question
that I have been searching for.
I love being inspired, and there is no better place to be,
there is no better place to spend your time, and your money,
than discovering a work of art that will continue to inspire you
for years.
There is no place I’d rather be than in a bookstore.

Watching the sunset,
feeling the air go cold again,
listening to the music of a friend
who lives on the other side of the world,
I am captivated, I am entranced,
I feel transported, I feel enhanced.
The beautiful voice of my friend echoing from my ears to my soul,
the gorgeous light of the end of the day,
engulfs me in a vortex of stellar energy,
and makes me lose all self-control.
I picture my friend in my mind,
I picture the sky made up of a million hues
of white, blue, red, orange, and purple-
like I would imagine poets, artists, writers, and painters,
must have seen thousands of times,
and whom all wanted to capture it in some way
that could be felt, seen, and experienced,
long after this celestial and special moment
has been replaced by the darkness of night.

Every sunset is different, every sunset feels timeless,
every sunset makes you inhale an intake of breath,
and makes you experience, for a second,
the sensation of being weightless-
however, when you combine the magic moment of a still and silent sunset
with the heart-felt voice and music of someone who has seen
and has felt what you feel expanding in your mind
and in your heart-
there are no words in any language on Earth, or among the stars,
that can ever come close to having the means,
or the depths of resonance to express.

Sunrise. Watching the sky burn like a fire of concentrated life,
expanding over the horizon, and beyond, all the way to the sea,
breaks my heart when I see it-
it makes me feel young, it makes me feel like I have a purpose,
it makes me want to run towards it,
and reach out and touch it, and take it into my thoughts and dreams,
so that it may inspire me always when I am awake,
comfort me, and stir me to unknown shores of islands of imagination
that could only have been born from my hyper-active mind while I sleep.

I daydream all the time about what, and who,
lies on the other side of a sunrise, or a sunset;
I constantly think about following the voices of my friends
to the source of their thoughts-
just as I imagine what if there wasn’t an ocean between us
that we had to constantly traverse,
what if we could all get together and share everything about us
without having to rely on technology all the time, what then?
What if exchanging feelings, ideas, thoughts, emotions,
poetry, music, between ourselves, wherever we are,
was as easy as entering into a trance.

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