Reflect.

Come and walk with me near these still waters We’ll gaze through ancient stone And touch the rough pillars of the bridge And think of times we had Under blanket skies Thick with rolling cloud When the water was cool, and deep. Way back, When time was green.     More of the same on…

Loss.

Our grief is an ocean; a river on which we drift our whole lives through.   For the lucky, we float. Mostly. But then A minute? a month? a life submerged beneath the water throwing up gasping breaths to roar our pain into the aching, empty white January sky.   The ripples from our easy wake…

On Time…

All of history has not been leading up to this very moment. This is not the end. See? Another minute passes. The seconds do not stop. They never stop. There is never a ‘now’, always a just passed. What if we were to view time without putting ourselves at the centre of it? It’s pretty…

Love the rain: Surviving dark times.

These dark days in November, it’s easy to start hating everything. Let’s face it, it’s pretty hard to be pleased about leaden skies, soggy shoes and no sign of the warmth of the sun on your face for a long time to come. I think this holds true for a lot in life these days…