I thought it ended there, at the beginning. The fragmented visits, the bounteous dull pearls, wisely gathering dust in the bottom drawer.

‘What for?’ I asked ‘Why?’ I cried ‘I wish I could go back again’ I lied

‘Because of life, because of life’ you said At least I like to think so, rolling the words around in my head, in your voice, as if I could conjure you into my living room.

Then the words come tumbling forth and the thoughts lock into place I feel the warmth of your gaze and the strength in your wise embrace And I realise that this was the beginning, in the end.

Dusk has fallen, little one And we must sleep to raise the sun So let your dreams light up the moon Bring out the stars, the night’s begun

We’ll find the dark a welcome friend While our minds and bodies tend Imagine where we’ll go and play now it’s time to end the day

And if you feel a tinge of fear stand up tall when it comes near declare I’m not afraid of you but come and join my friends and cheer

Soon the sun will rise and then we’ll have lots of fun again so sleep, my darling little one Until another days begun

I know one day that we must part
For your own journeys you must chart But if you’re lost, then sing this song And find me right there, in your heart.

Some spend entire lifetimes trying to belong Does it ever end? But maybe, just maybe, what we seek is inside, waiting.

We are all human Sometimes, a small reminder gives the loudest call So love, laugh, and smile because here we stand - as one, as all.

I feel like today, emprisoned by the cults of social media, we are too afraid to show our vulnerable reality.

Sometimes I wonder it love isn’t the right word for wordless moments, When infinity lights up the universe in your gaze

The stars are dying out, it seems. When I was younger I’d look up and see an innumerable glittering curtain, decorating my favourite time of day. I was afraid of the dark back then, but mum turned on her stoic magic once again and suddenly I had my own moon and three stars, watching over me in my bedroom.

There have been times when I’ve been amongst them, and count myself the luckiest human alive for the chance to add my light to the luminous chorus - but now I feel yoked by earthen chains to gravity. With each night that passes more sparks go out, extinguishing me back into that lampless void whilst simultaneously moving the light switch.

That sky, full of stars, is dead and cold A place, once, so magical now hurt to behold

We stroll along a never ending lane with turning seasons full of our regret Of warmer, simpler, happy times and yet The footsteps of our hearts will still remain

We witness how the browning, withered leaves Let loose in whirling oaken tears, each one a wayward memory of the missing years Wherein a storyteller wroughts and weaves

As human beings we lament for time we never ever seem to have enough but that’s because we never stop to watch

When autumn suns have lost in you their shine I pray that on yourself you won’t be tough so warm yourself with memory, and scotch

I’ve found I cannot even comprehend The lengths at which some people seem to go When threats of conflict break the fragile hold They claim to have upon a narrative

Oh, twisting, turning, writhing to and fro they lash at murky shadows, ghosts and those around them, unaware of pain and hurt the likes of which we’ve never known before

Our hope is that they know not what they do…. Because such knowledge of the consequence
means we knew nothing but the pale veneer that barricades a ruthless vitriol Or worse, a simple lack of care.

We watch them fortify positions, built to guard against the monsters they perceive in us, despite our openness to ask about the claws where we see hands the places where our words have burned yet, We’re met with stony silence at the gates.

I wonder what goes on behind those walls - Are propaganda posters everywhere? Do all sit silently and hope that if they wait long enough, time will pass until the monsters leave, the castle still intact, declare with teary eyes that they were right, And aren’t you glad that they were here?

Or is the truth a saddening, shameful sight Emprisoned by none other than their choice The walls of mirrored fear, and hate, and spite Cut them silent, sap their strength, and muffle their voice?

When animals come to compare They travel from here and from there From dales and rivers
In sweats and in shivers Both prey and predators dare

They all have a wonderful song A cacophony proud and strong But I can’t help to hear That my favourite is near When a deep rumble cuts through the throng

For they are increasingly rare With their sharp claws and stunning white hair They can run, they can climb And their hugs are sublime My favourite, of course, is…

… actually sea otters, you know the ones who hold hands they sleep? Those ones.

There would be no sun in the mornings No smell of freshly baked fairy cakes or Coffee shop conversations The hills we once wandered became car parks overnight

There would be no smiles, no laughter Creaking like an ancient door that has marked The threshold of grateful generations When we realise there’s salt in the custard, instead of sugar

I sit here thinking, ‘One day this will be real’ And when that day comes there would be no reason to life - no colour, no music, no warmth, nothing but an empty chair in a dead living room.

Then I remember every time you stood and put your arms around me, to see you, to know you, to meet you, to grow to match you and now to cradle you in turn and I know

Without you, there will always be The hope that we will meet again

‘We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when…’