Have we got some innate need for regression
Do we seek to open up blocked passageways
Which we alone have formed or created
Am I, with you
Are we still asking ourselves
All of those imponderable questions
Is that why we seek out the shelters
Is that why we need to construct
Spaces for dreaming
Places for deeper journeys
Across, beyond, and also within ourselves
There is little other
Than a photograph in the book
No one has trailed out a rope
To the location in Friston Forest
I did search; but time, time moves on
There may be other records, elsewhere
Held by those we haven’t yet met
Or those whom we have lost along the way
So to today’s shelter
There is some certainty, joy even
In the bright spring sunlight
Of the here and the now
Which raises memories of sparkles
On those other waters, be they
Dams, ponds, lakes, seas, or oceans
What is it which gifts these pleasures
Do I imagine the lightness
The freedoms
Are the good feelings
Wholly of my imagination
Or do you, do we, does everyone
Share in the absolute’s positivity
Are we all able to see the good side
To find our way out of the darkness
All the while caressing
The major and minor irritations
Which remind us
Of the ever present presence of despair
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