By Nicholas Bruce


An embrace that stays.

The choice to receive and feel, the meaning behind a look.

Being held in tiny hands, echolalia and laughter,

Making tents and walking along a mountainside,

Missing someone,

Searching endlessly, finding home, but realizing the walls within are empty without

The allowance of the heart’s voice,

The understanding that sometimes

Paradise in the form of an island is only a fleeting paradise,

For even from Ogygia Calypso longed to leave,

and doesn’t that mean bliss without pain is illusory?

The solid foundation of earth must sometimes crack and crumble,

And fire will scorch that which we cling on to,

Until we learn to accept the moment and flow,

We will remain outside the hurricane’s eye.

Die to honour, dreams of peace and external sovereignty.

Strip me of my armour, and I’ll do the rest.

For Now, I hear a drumming: in my heart you beat, and finally I am still.

The sun will rise and set to a chorus of

Musical howls and a background of forest stars.

We are the darkness that is the light, and the stillness that is the dancing.

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