an ocean of tears for a simple lie

wrapped in a ribbon
flailing
and sending out rings
in the cool water
just hit by the sun
rising in the haze
of early morning

are you there yet

the moon doth shine as brite as dae

i haven't had much to say because i have been thinking of silence, and silence is a clever devil.  and because i was stolen by a dragon, it lifted me up and took me away over yonder hill.  I slept awhile neath a cyprus pine and when i awoke the air was pure.  I drank of the water and the blackberries that grew i did taste.  Down the wandering stream, where the earth does like to hide this season round.  A silly mole that danced in his own self worth was upsetting the bank and digging his holes too spacious, a rain came down and they all fell in and he washed away and that was the last we saw of him.  Further down the apples spread up the soft curve of land away up to blue.  But they were restrained by fence and i couldn't bear the thought of that kind of joy so i left and like a leaf upon wind swayed on into the unknown.  It is said people fear that which they do not know, this seems foolish, as we are probably incredibly ignorant in comparison to the design of nature and the enormity of its character, but also fear is a great teacher and when we understand what fear really is the humour of life becomes a little more evident.  I reached a bend in the path and my way entered the stone and like all good friendships the stone became a part of me. It ripped a hole like a vent and out into the air came the life like red paint.  There is no time for dilly dallying though so i take my lesson with me and down into the forever.  The forever follows down the burrurulung to the sea but it will only be tomorrow that we make it down there to clasp eyes on the old mother, salty and cool like the shade in an autumn garden in Fitzroy.  The stranger blows into the room and like a friend is acknowledged and in the right direction pointed.  The service is with a grimace not a smile but this is the way and idle chit chat is a pithy substitute for a good job.
Return to the deep truths that you cover with your suspicion and your selfish heart.
A life spent in service to a goodness beyond its own needs is no longer kept in secret to happiness.