A few lines
Before meditation
Before bathing
It is Christmas Day
Chocolate wrappers
Point to last night’s indulgence
That Raymond Hurley
Plays on the stereo
Says something also
Not that peace and goodwill
Are ever frowned upon
But today, well…
For some it is a trip to the beach
Even a dip in the sea
But for me it is the pen, the paper
With an urgency, a desire
For a swift completeness
Of the business at hand
The buzzing bee defeats all hope
Of quiet contemplative writing
Where ample time would be taken
For reflection and deeper consideration
No, it must be done quickly
It must be put out there
Before it is anywhere near fully formed
The energy of the moment must dominate
This hectic, hurried, muddled approach
To words is my gift
It is what I must give to you
Straightaway
There is a love, if love it is
Which contradicts my thoughts
That trips me up, repeatedly
That love should distort
Or distract our imaginations
To gift pain intertwined with pleasure
Yes; over seas, over mountains
Feelings leap and bound
Taking all, or taking nothing
Yet I will wait, and wait
For such joy is for conquering
Such hope is unforgettable
There is love, if love it is
Which catches us out
That I have many chairs
To choose to sit in
And many books
In which to write
That I have these opportunities
As I listen to one of 19,800 songs
Says much about my need
To wallpaper over the doubts
Or you might say
To help me focus on the position
To dispel my thoughts
Through concentration on the certainties
Would that I could half-believe it
But for I being I, I alone know
There are frailties
I stand
I stand there
As only I may remember
As only you may recall
I stand
Looking both ways
Wondering
Which way to go
I stand
Outside your window
Knowing, that this time
This time will stay with me
That the years
Only intensify
The unknowingness