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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.
The sun is strong,
the temperature is hot,
the air like it is on fire,
the skin of everyone is burning and red-
no one wants to be inside on a day like today,
but no one wants to be scorched by the sun’s rays for too long:
you may love the sun, you may not,
but the sun can be too much for some sometimes,
and it can make people tired;
nevertheless though there is no way,
when the weather is like it is today,
anyone could possibly choose to stay in bed.
The heat of the city feels like a wave of energy;
the people out and about are like an ocean;
the shops and businesses have all there doors and windows open;
the breeze of the wind makes people feel at ease;
the life of many things combine,
and what can be felt and sensed
is like intoxication from fine wine.
The open spaces are like a haven for sun-worshipers;
the amount of people on the streets
is truly inspiring for street artists;
the food and drink being consumed
makes the entire day feel like a party;
the enjoyment that is openly apparent
makes it seem like everyone is on holiday.
Summer in the city, in any city around the world,
is different to spending your time on an island beach,
or in a town in a popular hot country,
where the sea, and the tops of mountains,
when they are touched by the sun shine like pearls;
summer in the city is an inspiring time and place-
there is so much to attract your attention,
and so many things to put a smile on your face.
Summer in the city is full of infinite sights, sounds,
smells, and tastes;
summer in the city is filled with tantalizing invitations
that only a fool would let go to waste;
summer in the city is like a bubbling coffee pot;
summer in the city- the metal, the windows, the ground,
the people, are hot.
Why do we live?
Why do we die?
Do we live so that we can die?
Do we die so that someone can live?
Should we smile after we have cried?
Should we cry for those who will always be in our hearts,
and who we will always be with?
To forget is not in our nature;
to remember is in our blood;
to pay tribute is like creating a door;
to memorialize the fallen is to keep alive the memory
of those who once ran, walked, waited, stood;
to wear a symbol of respect and remembrance
is a hopeful token that costs nothing,
but is worth more than any money could buy;
to feel and to think about what someone must have been through
is a wonderful thing;
to glimpse even for a second that which
someone may rather try to hide
shows you in a glaring and glorious light;
to lay down a flower, a wreath, a thought,
even if you are doing so for those
who will always be a complete stranger,
is like a burst of colour in a field
on a beautiful day in spring.
Every fallen hero had a life-time of dreams;
every child fears the monsters of their nightmares;
every man and woman marching forward to a beat
knows what loyalty and duty means;
everyone who does what they can for someone in need
knows that life for all its magic and beauty
is not always fair.
Every person can make a difference;
every person we meet can be a guardian angel;
every person can be a guiding presence;
every person’s reputation precedes them,
and whether they know it or not
that sense of who they are
is always floating on the surface of a perceptual ocean,
until it rises fully and becomes visible.
There can be only one life for everybody;
there can be only one body for every life;
there can be lots of ways to remember someone,
and one of the best ways is to keep thinking about them,
to keep loving them, and whenever you look for someone
and need someone they are who you will see,
and they will be always a part of the dreams that you have at night.
When we take our final step on our life’s path,
and we step to the side, and stop and watch
the rest of the world, the rest of the universe, pass us by,
we can rest, we can be at peace, we can shine,
and be there for our loved ones,
like we have always been looked on and protected
by those who came before us who reside in the light of the stars,
that is when we realize that we never leave each other,
because we are always together-
no matter how close, or distant;
no matter how near, or far.
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.
The sun in the sky;
the moon at night;
the planets that some people think
their lives and fates are dictated by;
the stars that have inspired me always,
because their light has been around
since the birth of the galaxy,
and their story has always fascinated me,
and their ability to be both timeless and spent
at the same time gives them a god-like status,
and the gift to be a time traveller, a time machine,
an engine of change, a storyteller, a fortune-teller,
that can tell the future, and inform about the past,
speak volumes, and shine bright.
My mind is always a billion miles away,
I am always taking a ride on an asteroid,
painting with the colours of a beautiful nebula,
and marvelling at the miracle of vibrant
and inspiring distant worlds,
and connecting and imagining the dreams of unseen
and amazing life beyond description every day.
The stars speak to me.
The Earth below my feet holds me.
Life embraces me.
The spectacular sight of a continuous and never-ending
sunrise and sunset and sunrise
is what I love to see.
The story of the entire universe,
and the meaning of all life is in me.
The music that I hear playing and resounding
from the hearts of everyone I know,
and everyone who means something to me,
is the true music of the spheres,
the song of life, the meaning of all life,
light, art, science, religion-
what makes you you, what makes every thing everything,
what makes me me.
The universe is an infinite and wondrous ocean;
the milky-way is a coral reef teaming with life
of all colours, shapes, sizes, description-
some that defy explanation and are beyond words;
life is a complex and intricate web of connectivity;
Earth and its countless population is a shining pearl,
whose miraculous appearance and purpose
is only just discovering its great and incredible potential,
and right now, and always, morphing, changing, evolving,
creating, making, and will one day see, understand,
and share the promise of awakening that we have all been awaiting.
We all have a job to do.
We all have a heart that tells us right from wrong.
We all have to look inside and choose.
We all have to sing our verse of the infinitely-layered,
and unique, universal, orchestral song.
We all have a foot-print to leave, a mark to make-
as long as we remember who we are,
and as long as we stay together,
we all have our own chapter and character interwoven
with that of everyone else and everything else of nature.
We all have times when we are both the traveler
and the interstellar storyteller.
What brightens your day when the sun isn’t shining?
Who makes you smile when they enter a room?
What lights up the night when clouds cover a full-moon?
Who holds your hand when you can’t stop yourself from crying?
It amazes me what some people remember in great detail, others forget-
like a cloud that passes over-head in the sky,
some people can rain down their own fears and insecurities
on people they don’t know,
and then move on without regret.
When we were children a hot, bright, and beautiful, summer’s day
felt like a life-time;
when we were children our innocence and our purity of spirit
allowed us to go wherever we wanted,
and to follow without question wherever our imagination took us;
when we were children we knew there was more to see
and to be found if we looked hard enough and if we climbed;
when we were children we didn’t carry around anything on our mind,
or our shoulders- in fact, we carried our heart on our sleeves
most of the time, when making friends and getting to know
other kids on the school bus.
Getting to know a new person and introducing them to your friends
is amazing to me;
learning that you share the same taste in art, music, films,
books, food, is thrilling and incredible-
that moment when you realize you are not alone,
and the joy that you get from something is not only mutual,
but also universal, as well-
that is epic, that is a true thing of beauty.
Something that makes you think is never a bad thing,
something that makes you feel something-
even if it is not what you think it is-
is always worthy of a song, or a poem, or a story, or a video
for others to listen to, read, or watch-
it shows that you are interesting.
There is something intimate about watching someone
bare the story of their life to a crowded room,
not really talking to anyone in particular,
or having anyone in mind,
but having something to say-
not everyone has this gift to be able to delight, inspire,
captivate, and enthrall,
not everyone has the belief in what they have to say,
or in themselves, not everyone has the nerve;
but when people listen, truly listen, take-in,
and are transformed by what they have heard,
it is like watching a seemingly insurmountable wall fall.
What we are all capable of in our short lives is phenomenal,
it is unknown, it is only limited by how much we dream,
by how passionate we are about what drives us,
by confining ourselves in the cell of time.
No one needs permission to make a masterpiece,
they just need to open their sole
and watch their light shine.
The Life, the Light, the Tears, of the Poet of the Sphere 