I will arise and go now, and go to Mount Djouce,
And I will climb and surely fall,
Until I no longer stand so tall.

Alone or with you,
I shall lay there;
On grass as soft as my bed,
To relax and stop the thoughts in my head.

I hope to have some peace there,
Away from everything and everywhere,
As I gaze towards the distant horizon,
The grounds a murky green and the sky is a perfect blue.

Perhaps I will think of you,
As I enjoy this beautiful view,
A blur of green and blue so true.

I will arise and go now,
And I shall exit without a bow.
I feel the cutting breeze go through me,
I hear the birds as they fly freely;
While I sit here in this room,
And silently await chaos to resume.

I am not what I am,
Nor am I what people say I am.

I am a locked box,
Full of things I cannot share.
I am sly as a fox,
Often portraying that I do not care.

But this of course is untrue.
What do I desire?
You and your unyielding fire.
And yet I can never seem to tell you.

Who am I?
I am the unknown.

I drink in the sweet light
Of the honey coloured moon
as it floats high at midnight
hoping it doesn't leave soon

As I stare at the full moon
The world falls away
and I lose my peripheral vision
bathing in the moon's rays

Sliver beams of light
That reflects off the ocean
And seem to be too bright
to be moonshine

I began to see now
understand how
myths and legends
of the moon began

Egyptian, Aztec, Celtic and Greek
Khonsu, Metzli, Elatha and Artemis
And even poor Starveling
with his dog and thorn bush

All trying to capture the raw beauty
that is the moon and it's light
The rarest jewel of them all
Shining bright through out the night

But all attempts of personification
contain to much complication
to represent
to simplicity of the moon

So I'll stop trying to convey
what I can see
because no matter what I say
will not match what floats above the sea

She pulls the curtain
Self-consciously her head bows
Standing ovation

I found my marble.
It was hiding behind old books
A place I never thought to look
Up high on the shelf
my little marble, a piece of myself
a clear marble with a black core
but if you squint your eyes
it would appeared to be pure black
I remember rolling it forward and back
up and down my wooden floor
until it got stuck between my door
then a rescue mission would commence
to save my marble I needed great confidence
not to get injured in the process
to my five year old self
this is what being bold was like
so this cycle repeated itself
recycling the same pattern
roll, stuck, save, repeat
but then one day I lost my marble
and then I forgot I lost it
I forgot that small part of my childhood
playing marbles on the wood
I thought it was gone for good
until I found my marble
I realised I didn't forget it at all
it was just stored away
up on a tall shelf
and when I was reunited
the memories began to reload in my brain
restoring a place in time
where losing a marble
was the biggest crime
I time with no bore
Playing with a clear marble
with a black core