Monday 23 June 2014

Circled


I am a child
left free in a carefully articulated garden of bulbs and bees
Green grass flowers beneath my back
Amid yellow marigolds and white lilies
My eyes are pillowed in golden ratios and knotted conscious wills
The sound of my carefree laugh
travels the world, echoing in silent corners. It fills 
Empty rooms, locked cupboards and boxed dreams
like a gentle sigh caressing old forgotten wounds

I am a person
Small and lost in a huge crowd
A hub of words, opinions and feelings
Preoccupied with finding something
Which is real, wonderful and mine
A pursuit of everlasting happiness
In this entangled reality
I feel an echo a whisper of a smile
A flash, a memory of colours; golden petals and emerald leaves
And a gift of a moment lived in perfect peace.
i am circled, part of a pattern
something wonderful, real, mine and unseen.