So much is lost, so much forgotten
that once was cherished, once was loved.
And yet some embers still remain
seen by those who still remember.
It overtakes the scene for eyes that aren’t used to see it
and blends into the ambience for those who live beside it.
What was holy is profane,
what profound is now in vain;
times have changed and much is lost,
some is gained but at a cost.
Where we worshipped we shall swear,
where we cried we’ll no more care;
the memories of stones outlast
by far what we know of the past.
Some days I envy the grazing cows.
Just think how calm and how content
they live without a thought or care?
Accept the rain as it may come,
enjoy the sun when it returns
without a worry as to when
the rain might chance to come again.
The darkness and the sunlight.
The water in the heat.
The steam that reach the skies.
The mist that stays beneath.
The world and all its cycles.
The abyss at my feet.
Nature and its miracles;
It’s time for nature’s cleaning;
a piece of slate now cleared.
There’s nothing to be feared
it’s just a page that’s turning.
The feeling, on a summer’s day,
to lay and watch the landscape,
the mixing smells of flowers and hay –
reality’s a great escape.
There’s beauty in disaster
and love can thrive in fear.
What once seemed out of order
today is what’s remembered
and too what has preserved
whatever else was there.
A gentle desolation.
Remains left up to fate.
Light shines through empty windows
and silence is the gate.
Humility be learned
in a place of former glory
when you realize, in ruins,
the place seems yet more holy.
To float along the river
and fight with oars the tide
it was a favourite pastime
of mine – at least for a while.
But looking up the banks
and feel them tower over me
has always made me feel
strangely confined; unfree.