Spiritual

When The Ice Cracks

I wrote this on the 26th of June 2011 at 4:46am

The inner journey

Who will go down, into the darkness, where the real treasure is buried? People don’t go there voluntarily, because real treasure is buried under real pain. People go because

The sleep of trees

If only we could be more like trees and give up the whole summer in an inferno of gold, then go to sleep. If only we could bare our souls like that, stark to the winter’s night,

Daydreaming

Just daydreaming.
Gold cherry

The True Poet

My grandfather was The true poet The way he Tilled the land With his hands Beneath the sun He seemed to Touch the sky With his thoughts

The workings of Sadie Mill's mind

The mind is such a curious place, in the outer limits of the human brain. lays a world unburdened by the mundane realities, that only reason can account for. That untouched place,

Inspiration

That would be the sweet voice, the breeze that rustles the leaves of your mind. The silent voice that fills your heart with music and your life with colour, that cannot be seen and yet

The Human Condition

When did our innocence corrupt, which once distinguished us from the beasts, is the beast not a man made creation, for our manifestations of hate, the fear of the fear itself,

I Have Come To The Borders Of Sleep

I have come to the borders of sleep, in the safety of my bed, I drift into the outer limits of my mind, the restraints of reason have no place here, I can be here, who I dare to be out there,
Cherry

'At the Going Down of the Sun '(I.P.)

“As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, moving in marches upon the heavenly plain, as the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, to the end,they remain"