Draw Lines

That I love you

Is that I loved you

That I loved you is evidently true

That in creation

We created

That in future we never created again

Here I am

Alone not lonely

Here in a place of forever good fortune

Many leaves

Turn through their colours

It is a season, there along with the others

That I remember

Meeting

Then persuading, yes that I remember

Yes

I am reminded

By another existential mirage

Mindful

Autumn colours at my window

Autumn winds in the sky

Here also plays

The music of the monks

Here then the meditation

Those twenty minutes alone

Without thoughts

But with the ambient sounds

Eyes closed

For these moments

Sat in stillness

Hands lightly held

Call, and response

Response, and call

There in the monastery

Beside the river

There, bathed in sunlight

Here, bathed in sunlight

Autumn, body as mountain

Autumn, mind like sky

Exposures

Somewhere

Way better than nowhere

On a journey

Free of hostility

Free of contradiction

Walk with me

As I show you where I know

Also

Where I don’t know

Or in what you decide to question

Camouflage my pain

At least in the moment

Help me to reach back

To that place

Of abundant joy

Steer me clear

Of the sadness

Of the betrayal

Of my own memories

Of my own wrong-doings

 

Outside In

Of the doubt

On the cross

All that’s forever

Forever the loss

Loss of the doubt

As new life comes across

Whenever is never

Without the dross

The limited pathways

Out to naught

Never is forever

With all that’s ever caught

Head up, head out

On your way

Together, as if whether

The truth itself will stay

Say you don’t mean her

But oh yes you so so do

With skilful demeanour

Embellish what is you

 

Inside Out

Is there grief, is there loss

Is the energy in the image

Of a passion spent

Of a love, long since lost

Is there solitude, is there soul searching

Are the colours in the picture

Of an acceptance

Of a new life, at whatever cost

Is there hope, is there charity

Are the movements in the painting

Of a life form

A greater beauty, in the riposte

Is there need, is there despair

Are the instincts in the action

Of an old angst

So so difficult, a final post to resist

Is there a secret, is there a revealing

Are the nuances almost the same

Of a time of simply being

To scream out loud for all that is