That I have to write more
Is that I have to write more
That I have to write less
Is that I have to write less
That less is more
Is more or less all there is to say
More about mercurial moments
Less about savage heartbreak
More about simple beauty
Less about ugly indifference
That less is more
Is more or less all I am able to offer
Less about what is lost
More about what survived
Less about what disappears
More about what reappears
That more is less
Is more or less all that I have left
I am collating
I am facilitating
I am taking on board
Other men’s words
I am regurgitating
I am re-envisioning
I am once more contemplating
Other men’s thoughts
Yet I do see the sunlight
Yes, I do hear the birdsong
I do listen
To the prayers of morning meditation
Also, there
In the light of the candle
I am among that purity
I am alight with the love
I am aware, or I am made aware
Of the conflict of our suffering
That is; my suffering, your suffering, our suffering
It is a burden which I gift to you
It is a burden which I take from you
No more, never no more, no more ever no more
Furious as the fury might have been
Acceptance is willed in on the angel’s wings
The angels given courteous of the Celtic Wisdom
The wings adapted for our brows of suffering
Let us cherish that which we do not talk about
Let infinity guide us to the infinite
Let smooth light illuminate the jagged darkness
Let the morning take us into the day
The day then to lead us on into the Elysian Fields
There to celebrate the silence of the silences
To embrace the love of the love of the lovers
Step steadily into the courtyards of blossom
Witness how clear the path of the arrow
See how certain its tip enters the tree
That none of this might reach you
That the hollow man may echo hollow words
That the hillside is still there for the climbing
That the stream is where the water flows
Beneath the bridges to all of our yesteryears
To bathe in the beauty of vulnerability
To become immersed in that deeper love
Which passes itself off as invincibility
Such that the difficult questions may be asked
I am suffering; can you, will you, help me
I am in pain; can you, will you, stand by me
I have doubts; could you, would you, be beside me
I have loss; might you, may you, pray find me
To luxuriate in the infinity of the infinite
To become swathed in that love
Which offers itself, unseen, and unconditional
Such that the open invitations may be invited
I have a peace, a calm, an entirety to give to you
I have a shelter, a lifestyle, a wish to parade you
I have a mind, a body, I have a lust going begging
I have joy, I have pleasure, I have much to share
To go on walkabout, each time with contradiction
To allow oneself to offer both sides of love
Which takes its turn to say that I am contradiction
Such that the reaching out may still reach out
Without a caption for the photograph
How would I explain what it is I feel
That you are feeling, or what thoughts
You might wish to express towards me
I could talk of emptiness, of loss
Of pain, of suffering
Of a void in the soul
Of not knowing which way to turn
What good would it do, to wish
That these infections would come to an end
To wish that we might be peppered
With joy, with happiness, with love
With the unbridled energy to be forces
Of new beginnings, pulses in fresh starts
Not caught up in the same old same old
But with the newly discovered originality
So you see the caption engulfs
The photograph; the words, the paths
The ideals, the doubts, the dismay
The despair; they all make an entrance
I could talk of where we aren’t anymore
I could talk of the snow on the ground
I could talk of Christmas, of lights, of presents
I could talk of the new year, but why would I
