Thank you for visiting.
No, please, I should thank you.
You go first.
I’ll follow.
Skim what you will from the surface.
Copy and paste at will, and you’ll find no joy in the thought.  
You’re better at this than I
I know.
What are you doing here, like that, going through the motions?
I have but a clue.
Don’t be too hasty.
If you don’t grasp the shape and colour that words convey today, you will lose out on the journey and a sense of adventure tomorrow.

Missing spaces
empty places
broken cases
Misplaced faces.

A one-dimensional field devoid of experience brings another person devoid of life to the stage.
You already told me.
What’s the purpose of being here if we don’t let light into the body’s core, on the breath, something felt within pores, between birth and death?

By the time I reached the end, it was too late to take action. Death is not dogmatic; ideologies that attempt to preach such notions provoke inquiry.
I hesitate to ask what you mean by God?”
Loaded.
Scriptures?
A guide?
Feelings?
That temple, church, mosque, and synagogue may encourage and help us channel everlasting, an all-encompassing bond that supports the holy order. This welcome interlude sees a coming together for prayer and meditation, a call to arms that cries in the hope of cessation from suffering and turmoil.
As essential as these communal places of fellowship might be, they often torment an already broken heart with more unimaginable fears and fixations. Under the watchful eye of sin and shame, the need to go elsewhere nudges a move that sits comfortably with our DNA.

I know when preoccupation is purely about survival. And yet, sitting around the campfire, grateful to hear of the other’s day or looking out to the miraculous sunset at the end of a hard day’s graft, there is more wonder than thought.

Is there judgment either way?

Before I got to the door, I was messed up and somewhat preoccupied with my part in the play, so I didn’t notice the rhythm until the last minute.

We consider hard graft the only way to live a holy, enlightened life.

Given how we covet, worship, glorify, and even exalt fame and fortune, it might seem that way.

Start

There were pearls
on the list
before swine
don’t bother turning up for the party
A freebie
Well, insecurity drives the game, yea,
Get in line
The undying principle
backstabbing
bearhugging
games
Institutionalised learning works
Is that so?
Our drive to the fast lane is a well-groomed lesson,
brought to fruition,
through parenting and the classroom
Well, it’s not generic!
There are no specifics.
You don’t have a life.
That’s your belief.
Trust the word ‘sometimes’.
Like ‘sometimes’, the sweetest person you could ever want to meet surrounds themselves with a gigantic fortress, ramparts of inaugurations, walls, then more walls of eye-watering riches, the transient onion; layer upon layer of deceit, emblems and demeanour, institutionalised makeup, formed, coded, worn in, over a lifetime.

Our children
Live and breathe
here and now
play
in magic
like heaven

Institutionalised?

Pigs are gentle animals that possess remarkable intelligence and deserve our respect. Unless we, as adults, decide otherwise.

By allowing the space to process hurt, grief, and other painful challenges, we can gain a deeper understanding of the valuable lessons that arise from these harrowing experiences.