was never about you

perhaps just another new year,
as if to calculate numbers with being...
fell asleep hours before,
what could bound me more than the moon....full
glowing , moving the clouds like leaves in the warm flow of air*
my own hands, parting the shimmer of this small moment
...its you i yearn, my soul belongs to you she whispers

my mirror profoundly...

Enchanted by the radiance,
With the footprints of my soul
I amble along these foothills in prayer,
Seeking comfort through life’s animation
No longer do we hunger with greed
But revolve by giving without limps...

amongst giants...

           colours flow,
           shapes of light dance on the forest floor
           somehow i never want to leave here...

for you and me

a new springing...
as we leave this world
beyond the stars we orbit alone
and journey back to the origin of ourselves*

early...

These walkways unfold.....
Rise towards the light she said
..... Its a beautiful morning*

flows*

the day we can no longer see the stars,
somehow we will grow a sense to feel them again*

let the light in...

today i came to realize,

that happiness may travel from afar
simplicity is a gift from nature,
learn from it and use it kindly

sometimes...

....all feelings are condensed,
into a tunnel of expression
*without the ability to control it*

Free my every sad...
My realism lies lost, there amongst the melancholies mad.
How rare for flowers to blossom in the mornings frost.
Blessed hurt, dance with volcano’s spirit.
While my blood surge metallic, my love trails bleeds to dry
Let the molecules flow in all that hinterland.
We peep through hurt like rabbits jumping to escape gravity.
Reasons for being, clowns of actuality…

consuming fire

its early morning,
last night downpour remains a sparkle,
a few figures outline the crispness of day.
the coffee a sure reminder of a deep sleep....now woken
this week has been blessed with rain*
signs of my happiness.....

The ant farm
By Marc Buter


Introduction:


Inside the hive all the green leaves from the forest bed are placed before the mighty queen like a woven blanket. The coming months ahead will be dressed in snow and high above the hardened crust the first signs of winter begin to chill the late afternoon air. The curtains were slowly sucked in by the vast dimness from above. I held my breath for what seemed like decades gone by as the light fell upon the empty stage. In the corner of the theatre a draped figure gradually stir the sparkle of our innocent admiration. Trouncing from fear, the truth was well within our reach, simply because there was infinity for all to have and to hold. Not one single ant and all the colonies of the atrocities were excluded from this realm.
Engulfed by the masses, I looked down and without a moment’s hesitation, took hold of the book, in celebration of the past, fell soundless to the moment and began to write without time…

prologue

flows into a new apace,
let's me in without boundaries*



dear diary...

In the kingdom of origin,
We sing of the great unknown
In the realm of wake,
We dress the fullness of day
With any colour we are