On the side of a cup,

It not the best place to be,

Especially if you are surrounded by,

A hot and steaming spot of tea,

But as the saying goes

where there is tea

there is hope,

so I will sit 

and patiently wait 

for that little  piece of rope,

the piece that dangles,

off the bag

when its being bobbed,

to and fro,

ill wait,ill grab it,

then climb all the way up it,

and to my freedom

I will merrily  go.


Once upon a time a man found a tapestry in a cellar,

the man took the tapestry home and laid it at the foot of his bed before going to sleep,

That night he dreamt,

First of an angel, 

Then many dead,

The angel would lift the dead from the ground,

Beneath all that was left was a fine strand of yarn, 

The old left long pieces,

The young shorter,

Some dark others light,

A second angel came too,

And took the pieces,

Then there was an old man,

He sat, whispering to himself,

He was carving what looked like a neck,

Then a body,

Soon the two were joined,

Finally a third man entered,

What followed was the sound of whispers,

Then,  plucking of strings,

And finally,

The Song of Sorrows.


Our love is made of demons

That stare each other down

Born off shadows cast below

By a flame adorned crown

Ur claws

my tongue

To war we go 

Our love

Our love

Forever we grow


As the Unknowable comes to manifest, through the illumination of things, a sun is born.
At birth there is death, even if only in the changing of form.

This is the first sound.

Every breath that follows is interwoven with every breath that follows, this creates the connectedness of all things

This is the Second sound.
The only worthy pursuit, to seek purposefulness.

Once found, this purpose must be expressed as a statement of intent.
 This is the second part.
To follow is the struggle through loneliness.

The revelation of one's self to one's self.

Ultimately leading to a state of alloness.
Once realised, ONE is prepared to love and to be loved by another, not one, but all.

A rebirth is to follow.

This is the third part.

There are many sounds we do not hear, they are a product of all that moves at a constant.

All other sounds you perceive are of your imagination.

A consequence of action and effect of that which you believe is your cause.

A prayer of gratitude must follow, as it is only by grace that we may live and love,
This is the fourth part.
And as night comes, greet death with the welcome it deserves.

For at the very moment of your awakening shall you be closest to that grace.


eventful maybe,

but he preferred those quiet nights,

when whispers could be heard in his head,

and ideas had time to form in his hands,

Oddly on this night,

it was the clamering sound of boots that began to conjure  

and it was the silence that disfigured them.