living by our wounds
is a delicate matter
not in any way
recommended
and yet so common
living with our wounds
might be a beginning of acceptance
to be raised from our wounds
is beyond
what any words can grasp
unusual
a shrill cry of a bird
sounding through the night
just before the break of dawn
not an unfamiliar bird
though not common either
but more than unusual
at this time
of the day
as if to announce
a more than unusual way
passion
beyond passion
is a state of grace
from where no harm can be
done
centred
leaning into light
where no one
can betray
no more
relinquish
such subtle sunrise
opposite a silent setting moon
slow surrender
into the state
of receptivity
circles
awakening out of disturbing dreams
losing every shadow of rest
to confusing memories
occupying the mind
in circles
while the sun rises
in marvellous colours
and soft tenderness
into another beautiful day
fabulously
having no one
with whom to share
intimacy
whether it be
in words
or in deeds
is fabulously
debilitating
floodlight
a night of broken sleep
falling a part
under a full moon
flooding light
everywhere
especially the darkest corners
of the mind
anywhere else
the nothing spectacular
about a particular sunrise
is no reason to be
ahead
or behind
nor anywhere else
than in this proper moment
where light breaks
into dawn
nagging
begging for love
is a rather humiliating situation to be in
the more
when the mind does not know
how to be
any different
leaving the beggar
in a sort of constantly nagging pain
nagging about
being a beggar
nagging about
not being able to be
any different
while life
goes one