Ethereal Reflections

Morning mist travelling,
tenuously,
up the valleys
of home.

Full moon on the bay,
illuminating
the Mackerel Islands

with silver.

Happy beagle, baying
at imagined squirrels,
and rabbits laughing
just out of sight.

The crispiness of maple leaves,
and the juicy tartness
of blackberries
awaiting frost.

The old man, 
lost in thought,
refuses to project
beyond next week.

Stationary Journeys

Not necessary,
those foreign climes
of which we often dream.

Not workable
our vain imagining
of whom we’d like to be.

Not logical
to say what if,
not facing what is real.

Our journey is progressive,
moving in serendipitous ways:
one can’t really know
if here and now
isn’t really there and then.

The secret,
gleaned from atop a mount
where the guru hid away,
is simply to continue
being you, each and every day.

And when tomorrow dawns,
as tomorrows always do,
just realise
that now is here,
and you are always you.
 

Fragments from a Fading Dream

Wispy, and tantalizing
glimpses of peace,
with an embraced
commonality:
sharing.

Floating, almost unseen,
at the edge of reality,
a fading symphony
of love,
of inclusion.

The solipsistic gale
from countless
societies of one,
shreds compassion,
with blades of hate.

There was a time
when hope, when optimism,
filled our dreams:
when people mattered,
not things.

These fragments
from a fading dream,
now simply
existential haze,
that obscures tomorrow.