Compersion; the idea
that when all else falls away,
joy is what remains.
Tag: joy
Revival
Nature has a way
of pulling us closer to the source;
my mind once like stagnant water
now a spring well of loving kindness,
warmth streaming down into my chest
and out my skin in sunbeams.
This is real love;
thick with healing,
and I’m drunk from the call
of the wild side.
Pickle Jar Karma
Today I’ll sit right in the middle of it,
in the thick, dense, lush bustle of love.
It does not do me any good
to exist on the periphery of this one.
Feel the pulse of my heart beat
as it runs through your finger tips
and turns your lips the richest mix
of red and pink. Forget all future things;
now is for sinking into our spirits,
the way yours sparkles through your eyes
and I’ve lost all doubt in universal signs,
spellbound in this spotlight for as long as it shines.
You’ve conjured up an aura that preoccupies my mind
with fascination for how the chapters in our stories
might use the time these bodies
find themselves writing the same lines
on the same side of the page.
Haiku #3: Beatitudes
Awaking from sleep
in a state of still dreaming;
mine, yours, for always?
This Year I Will Listen To Soul Music
At 2pm, last year breezed past me, out the door,
gracefully granting next year could plant her seeds
before sunset, steadily watered with liquid gold.
‘Hey Jude’ playing over the speakers
and I bless the drunken singers, warbling chorus
enough to cover for our quietness
as we stand there, feeling the corners of our lips
curl up in the sounds of silent serenade,
whilst tiny songwriters etch lyrics into our retinas,
signalling how these soft notes might look good on us.
Raw Soup for the Skin Soul
Pain pitted me to the post, and in defeat
I drag these heavy limbs across the finish line.
Body battle-worn, at loss
with how to rise from this crumpled pile.
The devil’s flames lick my feet
yet here I lie, stone cold,
crowds hurling their hurt in oblivion
to the collected suffering we already carry on our collective shoulders.
But carry on, we do; and if I have to crawl
over shards of broken glass with a broken heart
I will get us through;
the world has good in her yet.
She promised me once, and I hold her to it,
joy wins the war in the end.
Particles
Surround us
with a crowd
of one hundred dancing strangers
ears ringing
from speakers announcing
that tonight
nothing matters
except
the way the corners of your eyes
curl upward towards the sun
when you smile,
and how
with the brush
of your hand against my waist
the rest of this place
could be nothing but particles.
