The Line up

While HOPE is far sighted,
JOY is ripe and firm, may you catch it when it is thrown to you.

Promise you won't lose it!

THE HOW'S

Sweet connections with clay

To placate bitter realities

Moulding tear drops

To deal

You wonder why am always happy?

EARTH

They filled my fingers like sin

It bittered my mouth

And dried it

 See their long necks

 I knew when to stop.

http://www.ancestralclayvoices.com/

And there is a saxaphone

It was to be.

"The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it."


Omar Khayam.

Walk

Mercy, melts like sugar drops in between places warm from strife. We savour the sweet aches and pains friction brings, all our moaning is fictitious. Our hunger for the process is ravenous; we are too busy lusting after the melting mirages to sample the journeys delicacies. Delectable titbits do sneak past our defences and make their ways to dairies, journey logs, cartography immortalised as odes to THE POWER OF TRAVEL.