the birth of ideas

Swirling in some distant place, the heart a place of birth, flying free from weighted space, that tethers dream to earth...

Toad wriggled through a dream sequence, the one where he's at home, he swears it only seems pretence, that he is not e'er alone...

Such fortune is so rare to see, he's hopping proudly with his wife and brood, how is it this has come to be? when life afield is pestilent and crude...

Zigging left, then zagging right, extends himself to fullest height, the ones beheld now in his sight, imply the world is coming right...

But then a thought so deep and dark, idyllic scenes don't ever last, consigns us unto choices stark, to render futures free of pasts...

Rare smiles e'er fading far too soon, as warm suns fall from the sky, we're left cold beneath indifferent moons, to forever wonder why...

Or how it is we manage time, that scenes like these forever stay, make permanent our rare sublime, that those we love don't go away...

An idea curling like a star, around the planet where we're mired, peering in at Toad from way afar, an idea that's not weathered nor is it tired...

Toad grasped at it, as if his own life, depended on it's realisation, he hopped away from brood and wife, unto some dreamer's desolation...

He somehow knew that it was the one, the idea after which they'd so long sought, means by which to end the continuum, of lives with endings too long fraught...

But beyond dream, in waking space, one of Sullen's band bestowed a fart, a bubbly one, in Toad's own face, it killed idea, and froze the heart...

Abruptly banned from dream's idea, come cold unto the dawn, subverted by that old Gaea, mortals e'er the ancient's pawns...

Whilst far away on his own stone, Keeper scratched at absent eyes, some bright idea left him alone, beneath early raging skies...

He'd captured just enough of it, twixt earholes left and right, then diagrammed some scheme that fit, dimension, breadth, and height...

He rose, as his bones they cracked and creaked, pale morning come at last, across the sky deep colours streaked, like the dying after the past...

heartography

sat so quiet at the stool, compass and gauge my only tools, by means of which to take to sky, to find the faith with which to try, anything that frees our dreams, procure some sense from senseless seams, the quotidiien is in distress, the tired, erring, pale duress, come conjure here a newer shade, a feeling that will never fade, traversing states, oblivion, becoming more than just someone, whilst mapping sky, i found your heart, my unexpected, other part, and fixed thus at a and b, the rarefied you and me, i close my eyes and pray that this, will linger beyond morning's kiss...

a thought

a single thought as breath on air, it lifts us up from this despair, when love is faint and life seems cold, a thought remains to which we hold, as laughter in the dead of night, a sigh we share amid delight, in sky the starlings bring their song, to that for which we ever long, as twins immersed in lives apart, forever one within the heart, a thought occurred to me today, an absent thing for me to say, as i imagine you in hours, colouring the world's towers, with gifts of which you're never sure, the ones that cast your spirit pure, amid the torrent and the tide, these cyclic states we must abide, I thought the things you loathe in you, are those that make me love you true...

keeper's journal-at the advent of 'kronos'

a quiet verse from helion come

a quiet verse tonight

a word or two of moon and sun

and those who dare to fight

against dross as e'er prescribed

better numb the lives we'll know

from ideal we're e'er deprived

but we are the ones who grow

for fervent grasps at that which ain't

for ill-placed laughs and farts

what lights our eyes is what we paint

to make of life new starts

for lease on but that word, or two

i'll simply tell you this

there's kronos in the mirror, too

he calls us to abyss

so broken as i am at times

and so far from birthing's place

i am no slave to paradigm

nor passing time's clock face

with friends unravel all life's knots

the one's beyond your heart

a modicum of well-flung snots

to make of ends a start