Along for the ride

 

My heart is a roadmap

of stories, woven from

shooting stars and

wistful dreams.

 

A canvas bag,

threaded from memories

and ideals, lays on the floor

beside my feet.

Inside I store

the contents of my head.

My notepad, and a set of

discarded scraps of faded yesterday's.

 

I lay dozing.

Slumped in the passenger seat.

of a car I don’t recognise,

watching through dreamy eyes

the stories formed in blustery

summer skies.

 

I’m just along for the ride.

 

Driver unknown to me.

I’m just watching the

over-excited countryside

showing me all of its stories

in a speed through

flipbook view of forever.

 

Outside blurs into my

dreams seamlessly,

and I drift away.

 

Life they say is a dream,

and I’m living mine in the halo

of sunlight that speaks to me.

 

As the world blurs along.

The driver speaks in a whisper,

a singsong voice saying

"Keep turning your pages,

you are on the right road.

This life is golden, and the

stories are there to behold."

 

Wherever forever lies

there will always be

bountiful sunrises

and beautiful skies.

 

The driver speaks one last time

in a tenors tone

“You've reached your

destination, that will be £10.”

I hand over a tenner note.

And I’m right where I began,

at home with my pen in my hand.

A door

 

In a crowded room

I am a conundrum

wrapped in enigmatic skin.

A mystery formed of

many beginnings,

middles and endings.

Pathways leading in

so many different directions.

So chaotically organised

in maze like delight,

I explore every path and I feel alive.

In a crowded room, I am a door.

 

I can be extrovert

or I can hide away

from sight.

I don’t like to speak,

but then I get on stage

and shout.

I don’t like to be seen,

but I like to stand out.

I am inwardly bright,

outward I shade

in the love of sunlight.

though i want to be adored, I hide from the praise. 

In a crowded room, I am a door.

 

In a crowded room

I’m scared to stand tall.

I wilt like a flower into soil,

yet give me the stage,

And I want to hold you all

with my words

exploding from the page,

my soul, my core.

In a crowded room, I am a door.

 

In a crowded room, I embrace the wall,

not being central, I stand away from it all.

Just letting everything

wash

over me,

until I can feel my heart

beating

so

loud.

I feel skyscraper tall

when I can inspire

others to feel the call of the mic.

As they share themselves with the crowd.

I feel warm.

In a crowded room, I am the door.

 

In a familiar space,

I am hope and warmth,

in abstract memories I hold my case,

in unknown worlds I feel out of place.

In my home

I hold my arms open for all.

I love with a passion

and I smile with joy.

I sing from my lungs

like a bird seeing dawn call

for the first time over the

bountiful meadow of it all.

In this familiar space, I am a door.

Open to all.

A stitch at a time

 

My love knows not

the oceans,

nor the continents

that divide.

It sees no void too great

or space too vast

for hearts to collide.

My love witnesses not

The ticking of the clock

or the aching chasms of time.

It only knows the beat

that lives

in this heart of mine.

 

My love sees no borders,

nor hillsides too high to climb,

it doesn’t appreciate the ice

as it creeps in glacial tides

across mountains that

have stood

through storms and floods

for aeons.

A testament to time.

It only sees the heart that races

and all the aching feelings inside,

when two that should be one

are not on the same pathway

whilst their stars are so aligned.

 

My love isn’t bound by

distance, it sees

everything across

the vastness of this

exhilarating existence

unwound 

like threads of time,

linking hands, across

the grand cosmic sands,

and it holds it all close.

Pulling those threads,

feeling the intertwined

storylines

of the weaving strands

as they sew themselves

into this cosmic tapestry.

A stich at a time.

Or does it unravel 

at the way two

can yearn for so much,

yet learn to weave away

from that which is divined.