Thursday, 25 February 2010

the return

"Your journey will be long," you told her. "You will face many dangers. Some, you will overcome. But the Dark holds much that is Unknown."

"How will I find my way back Home?" she wondered.

"Perhaps you'll no longer want to," you replied.

You couldn't tell her that you were still searching.
And that there weren't any signs.

Sunday, 21 February 2010

just not yet

one day, we'll sit beside our flower beds and watch the birds make homes from our trees

one day, we'll be happy with the lives we got to live
the shores that welcomed us
the broken hearts we patched and mended
the smiles and hopes we found
the memories we made into moulds that still hold us

one day when this is over.
and all that's left is a courtyard of windows
and the two of us watching our memoirs float on by

Monday, 15 February 2010

the fear

She pushed open the door, and peered into the Dark.
"I can't see you," she whispered.
(She couldn't remember why you took away her Light, and left her there, faltering.)
"You promised I'd find you here."
(She didn't know you were afraid.)

The door shut quietly behind her.
And you were the one left alone.

Sunday, 7 February 2010

beneath it all

The leaves will rust. And they will fall.
They will crumble. And they will die.
They will become part of the earth that bore them.
Just as you and me.
There's a pattern to this madness, if we just could take a look.
There's a circle at the centre. And a meaning to the end.
We just haven't got there yet.