Towards A Theory Of Absolute Uncertainty

Towards A Theory Of Absolute Uncertainty

The first thing you notice

is how hard it feels to sit with a restless spirit,

agitated by all the ways you’ve avoided gazing

at missed connections,

professing a non-attachment to introspection

that instead increases its need,

a pretence of patch work through which

your soul bleeds for authenticity.

Underneath this cover lies your bundle of energy,

bravely waiting for you to acknowledge its truth

and set out on this journey, one that

some will refuse, fearful of their own power

and its potential, but not you,

the you who has always known of kinetic flow,

the you who comes from the earth,

made from the same molecules as a pile of dirt,

each handful worth its weight in diamonds

for simply becoming, before then building

each beautiful view

and the sounds that surround them.

Your love is a work of art in motion,

each movement a choice of devotion

or selfish gain

and only by digging deeper than the surface

can the heart hear what needs to change.

This is the work of the dreamers,

those intimate with wilderness,

so at peace with the untamed

they’ve felt every natural disaster,

slept with the creators of war and human chains

yet still give birth to present moment

after present moment

and pronounce it sacred.

Where You Are

Where You Are

Sometimes the world gives out

a little of what we need, and it isn’t greed

to take these opportunities, free our minds

from all the things we think we should be.

Lift your chest, raise your head,

find space between each rib bone;

it’s more than just a cage.

Stretch out each muscle in belief

that what it’s reaching for is worth the wait

and the growing pains from overcast days

are a sign for us to pay attention,

sit up straight, interrupt the chain of events

that’s causing our voices to shake,

to forget our breath. Whoever says

it’s not okay to stop and rest

hasn’t felt your feet aching,

hasn’t seen the sweat from your brow

as they drip down like salt tears,

tired and lonely, falling to the ground

like the perceived gravity of your fuck ups,

when this Earth only birthed humanity.

“At Least We Tried”

“At Least We Tried”

At times I come across a soul

so quick to bring me down

I wonder what their story is

and what joy they have found

in superficial conflicts

or actions brought of anger,

how do they think

that will make the world a better

place, for us to live on together?

Hearts closed to the bigger picture

this is how they respond to the suffering

of others, by increasing the fracture

till we’re all just single broken bones

in a human body,

dysfunctional vessels

for a collective heart heavy.

Spreading the disease

of jumping to the worst assumptions

about another human heart

without knowing its best intentions.

But love is a doing word

so let’s all keep in mind

that in a world already tough enough

at least we tried being kind.

Paramitas

Paramitas

The tide continues its motion
lapping the broken shores in a peaceful sigh of relief
after holding its breath for so long.

You recall the beach by your childhood home
spending hours pondering what treasures lay
on other shores
how desperately you wanted to believe
in a world away from those bricks and walls
which built that house and then trapped you inside it.

You recall the beaches in foreign countries
you had the honour of gracing.
How you remembered that first beach
and realised you had made it.
You are still making it.

No matter where you are in the world
the water always finds its way to you.
It endures the earth’s currents
to reach the ground your feet are stood upon.
It’s about the long fight.
And if the ocean can find a way to touch you
and at every opportunity longs to dip your feet in its brilliance
you can get out of bed and exist today.