Four for the wind

This is all my own work and comes from me. I'm pleased about that...

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In the fire leap shadows
And the rusty echoes
Of the dream source of desire,
Inside the ears
Where the oceans spill their secrets,
There lived an old black baguette, slowly rusting away
To nothing much at all really
And surrounded by the hole of a donut.
Over in the far corner was the consequential tea drinker
Who could not agree
About the best mobile phone in the world
And so bought a cheap one just for now,
And said: “I think I need to take a heart attack.”
The old black baguette didn’t care that much,
It had dried raisins to eat if it got hungry
And the Umber frog to play with;
Santa Maria was looking after her teeth
With sunflower seeds,
But that was to be expected and anyway,
It was a good day for drying,
So everybody was outside in their yards
Splashing water everywhere
And singing custard songs of joy, as
The old black baguette drifted off to sleep


In the dream maybe
The seams were coming apart
Like a boiler about to blow,
This was to be expected,
And indeed,
This had been foreseen long before-hand
In the book of deeds,
And so long as you had read the book
All could be prepared for.
Of course,
Santa’s clause stated that things had to run smoothly,
But a bit of this and a bit of that
Slipped through now and again
To make it interesting,
Give or take a barn owl whistle or two
Up in the hayloft,
And then slide down the chute
And ride the bike into the pond
Full of water
As you do when riding a bike.
And people are wonderful,
Don’t you think?
So everything always works out ok in the end
In the dream maybe


Night will come down with the way paved in dreams
As the old gods crumble to dust
A glorious passage opens up, inviting a trust.
Waste no time unless you have to.
We are not bound to any hopelessness;
Our passage is free though our time is slow.
Push when push comes, and don’t look back.
Sitting on the throne under the midnight tree
Of stars
The quiet bone of a leaf beside you,
Smoke up for time out,
And surrender not to the hopeless.
Bring your sword to kill any dragons
To know your own doom
So none can slay you with it,
And when the time comes,
Dance with the naked slave
Until the sun rises in your spirit
To know there is no time to waste.


Passage through the sun comes at a price,
So burn your boots to pay it
And drink your fill,
But don’t lose what can’t be lost
Or you’ll be in trouble,
And if the raucous wakes you from your slumbers
Roar your displeasure tenfold
Upside the wanting
For it is this that will carry you on
Through all the deeds you must endure.
One more gold dust page then,
Heaped upon the mountain,
One more passage through a turn,
And if the wind calls you,
Remember the darkness past,
And the road of choice,
Both have your name,
But neither can hold you,
For your promise is more than all the slavery
And soon enough the grave;
Walk on through the graveyard
That comes at you,
And laugh at all the demons from hell.

Image from me

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