I find peace, calm
In a space undistracted
By the flash of colour
Or the dominance of black or white
But from here
Across the inlet
It resembles only
A small forest of brick and steel
Concrete and glass
Its denizens
Too small to register
I am the tree
Not just the leaf
I manifest
Not of the tree
Not separate from it
But the tree, itself
Bringing light
To darkness
Bringing purpose
To doubt
Bringing meaning
To listlessness
Arc vs line
Hard vs Supple
Crooked as a fish hook
Straight as an arrow
The well-trodden path
The less-travelled fork
And as it lies there
Like a cat on blanket
Napping in the afternoon sun
Coming through the window
Mother Nature soothes
Its hard, rigid body
With a massage of
Wind, rain and
Savage heat
Spicy hot
Hot hot
Curry Laksa
Tea with milk
Black black tea
Condensed milk
Sweet Hot
And thick
And I have taken all of them
Some have called that heartbreaking
Some have called that courageous
I only know what Pascal told me
My nature lies in movement
Complete calm is death
Like the ghost gums
In the Red Centre
I would come to know
Centuries later
I held you
While you grew cold
Your eyes
Already clouding
My body emptied
Of presence
Hollowed
By your absence
Making space
For what comes next
Pix to Words 