As Infinite Unions

Illusions,

Constructed reality--

Motion dynamic, circling harmony;
Ideals translating to concrete actions;
Cryptic facades and literal surfaces.
Faltering discernibility;
Hunting truth.
Between lines blurring-
Imagination boundless, creating appearances;
Reality distorted through truths unearthed.
Seamlessly complement;
Areas converging.
- infinity -
Converging areas,
Complement seamlessly.
Unearthed truths through distorted reality.
Appearances creating boundless imagination-
Blurring lines between.
Truth-hunting,
Discernibility faltering;
Surfaces literal, and facades cryptic.
Actions concrete to translating ideals,
Harmony circling dynamic motion.
Reality constructed
Illusions.

Downy

A descending elegy, elegant
In its fall, as the notes, lines and ovals,
Form a bumpy downward slope. A green fan

Twirls with a drunken gait, currents pressing
Against the veins, pulling and pushing the
Leaf spinning and weaving downwards. A red

Flash in a straight path, making contact with
More than a little sound, leaving behind
Air, where it used to reside. Porcelain

Pristine and unblemished, makes a dash for
The core of our living, giving up its
Earthly form for something a little more

Scattered, a piercing sound heralding its
Transformation. Whirling edges in the
Air, controlling the wind and a light breeze,

Unhinge, and for a moment, they seem to
Defy belief, spinning as if they were
Suspended in space, in time, before the

Laws of nature grip fast, and it becomes
A falling whirlwind. When the ball flies high
And yet higher and still higher, it falls.

What I see

What I see
In the eyes of beings
Equally capable of sight
Understanding their plight

What I see
Is delight
In eyes that shine
When a new born baby
Takes his first cry

What I see
Is defiance
In fiery eyes
When a boy boldly
Attempts truancy


What I see
Is depression
In bleak dreary eyes
When a person breaks
Mindlessly ranting at every take

What I see
Is anger
Through narrowed eyes
When a person boils
Venting with a raised voice


I do not see
The fear of a new mother
Nor do I see the want for attention,
Understanding and consolation.

What we see
Is what we want to believe
And what we are
Is what we believe

I do (not)

If the vows
That were meant to string
Two loving hearts
Together
Was a ritual
No more than a political venture
Would you abide by
That contract agreement?

If you had read the fine print
About eroding feelings
And coarse fingerprints
Eventually milling
What-has-been
Into nothing
Would you stay together
In hope for progress(regress)?

If you had known
That love stories
Did not always end with a
Happily ever after
Would you stake your heart
For an investment
Possibly of no return?

Alas, even if we had known
As we do now
We never could find it
In every fibre of our being
Practicality, and instead dream
Possibilities of an idealistic realm--
Even if we had known
We could never forgo.

Fires of Brigid

She was cold;
I might say frigid.
There seemed to be no outward signs
To suggest this.
Her eyes were dutifully turned away
Concentrating on the task at hand.
Icy,
She was,
With a coldness that dug deep,
Freezing through a warm exterior.

Half a face comely,
And half a face not.

Deceptive.
Behind a veil of warmth,
She was cold;
I might say frigid.