No experience required
No camouflage
Just patience
         Suppleness of thought

Windsocks tell of things
                     Beyond control
Slight shifts
Reflect calm
                      Between chaos

Whilst watching windsocks
Opinions rest
Until hit by storm
      Then shift in an instant

Whilst gravity
However weak
Defines
This experience remains
Bound by density
                                   By dimension
Unless everything is forgotten
Even the act of remembering
                                           To forget
Holds one
Shrouded from the ether
Without ability to
Dissolve into the space
                     That surrounds us all

I’ve walked beside you
Behind you
Broke your fall
     And never told you
      
Sliced my tongue on the words of others
To cut them off before they reach you

Picked thorns
                     Before embedded
Opened your eyes before you notice
                     What you can’t see

Hoped for a reaction
                     A gasp
                     A stumble
                     A something
Anything

Even if you said I was nothing
I could walk away
Owning a presence
              That may have been worthy
              Of a second glance

Don’t plunge me in the river
Let it flow within
I’ll hold my breath
Daub purity on the reservoir wall
That contains my being
                                                 As a filter
Below the surface
On the inside
                     It’s ok
You don’t need to read it
                                                 It’s too deep
I’ve drowned before

In words unbecoming
In thoughts unspeakable
In actions unwilling
                                                  I’m still learning
To swim against myself
Whilst undercurrents
                                                  O­f impurity
Strive to drag me back down

There is an old Post Office table
                        Covered in things
Smashed willow pattern
Nothing fits
Looks arty scattered

Rusty looking thing
Small
Unknown origin
Probably a dried slug

Dinky No 39 been dug up
Top down
Never valeted
Better full of earth

Things are strange
Things happen
Things are different now

I've drawn a big square
Then another
In each corner
Inside the big one
                   I have a house

  Just the same as the one
    I drew when I was five
       With a little stick dog
                                  A tree
         And a winding path

       All out of perspective 

Little's changed
                 I still can't draw
A dog now barks
The tree is deciduous
                 And the path’s still winding

Some things unmissed
Need never be found

There's some things I miss
Can’t get out of my head
Can’t stop thinking
Over and over
              It's torture
                           Cause I miss them so much

       That's why I tell myself
You're only missed a little
                       Then I can think of you often

If between our palms
We held
Twelve elements
                    Of nature          
Surely
Hand in hand
      We could create
A universe of our own