seeing inside their weak-strong faith,
the mirror of my own.
Their eyes are as those of great lions.
You can be whatever you want to be -
make the very best, fucking awesome,
found my name, found my place,
found my mate for life.
Old names recycled well,
garland the well,
all will be well,
in a nutshell -
Got to keep moving forward,
got to dance with the swell,
got to sort the fucking shit out,
or in blood you'll drown -
Will you ride 'mongst the ship of fools' poor crew,
land-bound 'gainst rising tide,
or strike forth, lost and blind,
in a coracle, terrified, brave?
Lost in pubs is dreaming, really should
be scheming on some sacred saint-like theme,
but sleep is ever temptful, life tires as long as it lasts,
is a little indulgence harmful, to balance up the past?
Merripen, Jennipen, it's an oscillating battlesnake,
a dwarf and a bloody great giant,
a single grain in time makes a field,
fractal means of a rune,
recursive, progressive, I know you know this tune.
(June 2012)
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