This is partially about fate and partially about having to be reborn again, viewed from a discarnate state, a dream, a vision of a seer.


Under the canopy of leaves

The six sided dice of fate

Bubbles and boils

With the three minute eggs

Impatient in the saucepan of life


Soft in the centre and waiting

Waiting for the soldiers to return

From those far distant lands

To find the Odyssean paddle

Stuck into the sand


Now dancing Aurora’s northern waltz

In the magic sky of childhood dreams

And seeking Teiresias’ blinding eye

To see and sense the Milky Way’s

Celestial, celebration’s hunt


On larken wing to soar

Into the eagle’s watchful eye

And find within the abstract cores

The forming purpose of the

Many winding woodland trails


Turning to heal on the nodal

Fractal point of balance

Strung on the gallows of becoming

In the nascent fronds of time

Without the tinkle, twinkle starlight sky


Feeling the winding wisps

Of another’s dream

Drop a stitch as the needles

Click clack in haste

Somewhere, close across the room


Now hungry

Fed on reason’s meagre ration

As each black and white frame

Passes the smoke filled scream

Of the daily humbug, handbag life


Now spent and sated

By passion’s primal earthly score

That leases a moment

From the conductor’s

Baton charge


Static and crackling the hairs

Upon the arm of charm

And counting the basalt

Basin rock that

Forms the font


Now sprinkling on

The head of strife

A name, a name

And so forward

Into life


And with spade

And shovel

Now to dig

For diamond’s daring

Smiling face


And picking the bird nest beard

Of a trusted, trusted friend

For insight’s new

And lantern’s

Novel, ways to mend


To see the canopy

From above

And watch The rhythm

Bang its deep red

Pulsing drum


And tasting the texture

Of my swollen thumb

By hammers’

Wayward glance


Kind and blind

Of what

Is yet to come.


And knowing now

In whisky’s

Peaty still

All is done


As was


It was

His will