Sunday, 14 August 2016

a time not for promises,
but intentions set.
an expansion
into the inner realms,
for nocturnal stirrings and spectres
and fathoming what it all means.

if not fathoming,
then giving it all meaning.

a recalibration of sorts.

possessed always
with a forever love
of doorways and thresholds.

the garden of the body
stands poised and lightly rooted.
intent. ready
to place one foot in front of the other.

holding gentle in one hand
and might in the other.


the physical manifestation of emotions
along with the image of water
folding and crashing in on itself.

the knowing
of what is precious
and holding it safe.

no matter what.

the labour of my love.

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