Untitled-TrueColor-01 heart cut

Will you listen with me,

to the gusting breeze

dashing over hawthorn bushes.

To sea-smacks on the rocks below the cliff.

To the hum of engines trawling the mist

 like a lost soul.

Winged Horses

Fiona's Foal

Traffic Lights are red

The radio broadcasts jingles

that could get into your head.

Across the way,

two horses face each other.

as still as a day with no wind.

The silence of early morning light

with winged horses in flight,

lasso my willing soul.





Like string beads on wire,

a series of thoughts distract oneself from the present.

To the outer world, it may seem you are in a daydream,

but the wisdom of the heart,

in a fusion of warmth that brings to life one’s sleeping  soul,

finds itself in the depths of a wild wood of creativity and enlightenment,

and in the clear space of brilliance, science and love are the same thing,

brought together in the genius of God.