The Edges of the Sky
You must reach towards the edges of the sky.
Beyond the horizon of a timid imagination.
For if you don’t, you may as well round your shoulders and shuffle lifelessly towards a cold unwelcoming grave.
Such is the consequence of uniform ambition. And not reaching for the edges of the blue blue sky.
Fragile
We are fragile. You and me.
Though we act strong,
our lives are
held together with
thoughts of where
we might be tomorrow.
And of disappointed
yesterdays.
At any moment we might shatter.
We might fall to our knees
weighed down by the terror
of being so far from
our own control.
Dare we look up, we’d not know
where to go or what to do.
We are fragile. You and me.
If we were to turn to each other,
we might see the whole
world on their knees.
Hurting, and seemingly alone.
But none of us are.
We are fragile together.
The Tree of Dreams
Many had gathered under
the tree of dreams.
All but one stood shaking its
branches for dreams to fall.
Dreams that had been
whispered to them
by the voices of others.
Dreams that would
fade with time.
But one sat quietly,
waiting for a dream
to recognise his soul.
And to consume him
with no doubt.