Lord of life,
of green and colour,
of breeze and light.
Lord of bluebell and butterfly,
of birdsong and birds' flight.

Lord of space to think,
of time to rest.
Lord of movement,
of stillness.

I sit here and I confess
complete adoration,
my sunshine celebration
of this, your full spectrum,
this rainbow-wide gifted creation.

I sit and give thanks
for this sustained life,
of greens and blues in yellow light,
of fresh composed songscape,
of this colour full to the brim life,
this God given land and sky-scape.

I thank you, Lord, for this gateway,
this fresh every morning,
gifted new day.

A park bench, and
A yellow orb nukes its core
a million times per second in space.
Somewhere, a man spoke his last word,
Or an infant giggled at her father’s scruff.
A black hole light-years away
engulfed another black hole of lesser mass;
the surrounding planets spaghettified.
Yes, this park bench is.
And you,
sit there with a leg over mine.
Wrinkles on your iris orbit a black hole,
visible because of our star.
It's just you and I,
sitting on a bench.

Nobody or nothing
Can convince me
That nothing
                   In it's self
                   Contains nothing
We’re just too small
              Too limited
              To see all that surrounds
                                        From within our body

What torture ignorance is!
When you treat ignorance as such,
Perhaps it is.
Being so ignorant,
I could see it.
For the foolishness of it
Is that it is the only route to wisdom!

In how we define it?
By how we describe it?
Of how we perceive it?

Perception birthing perspective,
Yet both products of their environment!
"Self-copulation?"

Of course, given context,
The definitions fluctuate.
So, then our perception of it
And thereby our descriptions of them,
Change or fluctuate also.

Like the rain falling.
Like ice forming.
Like water flowing.

I still call you just to say
the most ordinary things—
a song I loved, a thought I had,
a funny sign on the side of the road.
Your voice still reaches me,
but through miles that stretch like oceans,
and it’s not the same as having you here.

I still go to the places we planned,
but your absence echoes louder
than any crowded room.
Even the puzzles sit unfinished,
pieces scattered like remnants
of a life that once made sense.

You were my safe place,
the steady ground beneath me,
and now I walk unsteady,
reaching for something
that isn’t there.

But soon—soon, you’ll be here.
And for a moment, I’ll breathe again,
watching your smile fill the spaces
that have ached for too long.
I’ll memorize your voice,
trace the feeling of belonging
before it slips away again.

And then, you’ll leave.
And I’ll know the weight of missing you
before it even begins.
Because this time, I understand
how deep absence cuts,
how cruel it is to taste love again
only to have it torn away.

I don’t know why life did this to me,
why I can’t just sit in your presence,
why I have to learn to live
with only shadows of what was.
But if I could freeze time,
I’d stop it the moment
you walk through that door—
before absence has the chance
to find me again.

We both had enough of the poison Springtime
So you picked me up, and you started driving.
               The street's Westbound,
                rain and wipers pound.
We can be reborn if we can just depart
                             our town.

Race away--
                  --like we'd set fire to Bon-Ton
Lose a day...
                   ...take 84 past the county line.
               Let the rain keep time on the sunroof
                                  'til we're fine.

                              Do they ever feel it?
                                --Someone does!
                          The grinding. Rewinding,
                                hit play to repeat
                                          and then
                                          get paid.

                                        The payoff?
                                      You'll stave off
                          14 lies from their dead end eyes
                                     for one fortnight.

                                        Be forthright.
                                        Am I blind?
                                   Or do I detect that
                               our headaches kind of rhyme?

Make us reborn this time; phoenix down and back upright.
Continued the drive and the world we're righting.
                                 We killed our time
                               and came back to life
Just in time to return to our twinkling
                                         town lights.

When we have our fill of the pissant Summer,
let me pick you up and we'll head out driving.
                   past the Cannery
                until Rouse turns free
our zipped up obits that we can't speak
                          cleanly.

Race away--
                  --like we'd set fire to Bon-Ton
Lose a day...
                   ...take 84 past the county line.
               Let the rain keep time on the sunroof
                                  'til we're fine.

                                Let the rain keep time
                                    on the sunroof.

                               You'll be fine...