Picture (im)perfect

It is a perceptive gaze
that sees the creases;
those shallow lines
and hidden canyons

No one knows
- really knows -
the exact meaning of all of this
The constant balancing
to make it all worth while
The sum of gain and loss
caught forever by the painters brush

A cautious stare
catches that fading twinkle
to sudden sadness

And silence intercepts

There must have been, initially,
days of joy
that strayed into tomorrow,
untainted and full of light

Where have they gone,
I wonder
What has gone so wrong
to cause this binding with doubt
Was there too much caution, unwarranted?
Or too much pain, implanted?

A denial of joy

There must have been
(at least) moments
where wonder reigned
and curiousness was still
a first step forward
Abundance, waiting to be assigned

Those must have been the days …
I see it in this picture
I see its prove reflecting

Then why, oh why …

stuck
in the mirror’s mind


..

Tuning

how do you explain
what does not want to be explained

is it
a futile attempt
to accept the want
or need
what eyes cannot see
and hands not reach?

explain while you still trail …

your fingers search to outline the form
over and over
inside your head
until you dream

feel its structure with imaginary tips
and leave it with your fingerprints
of fleeting image,
screaming
I am there ..

but
what-if …

this is freak coincidence
an incident of foolishness

...
we are too cast into reality’s spell
to even consider otherwise

and broad horizon
stays
- unread
- untouched
- unpronounced

- un – wanted, eventually

for its reality is moot

we have written the manual
and analyze it as a chart to everything
a set manifest with all the answers
from structural stature to diction
...
that actually leaves me chilled and wondering

when did we intend to become a work of fiction?


..

Spring

..

Splash ... into puddle

Atone then tumble

Embracing colour

...

Boundless suit


..

Seconds

It never stopped raining that night.

Little pieces of debris
whirled down in slow motion
and carefully covered the ground
in an awkward caress.

These are fragments of photo-memory;
a million pieces puzzle
spilling out from over-exposure
in a second(‘s) impact.

Where once was,
is now saved forever from knowledge;
unrecognisable to the inner eye.

Are these shards, in supervision, made up of me?
A cloaking monument to former structure.

Then where lies the blue print?
There should be a roadmap
from Stillness to Re-form.

Instead,
I have no more thought on this...

With distance comes the quiet.

And ignorance...

A haven
of sudden bliss.



..