Jan 122011
 

As I drive in silence
almost in reverie
of the night

The city seems surreal
empty streets bathed
in yellow light

The dark sky and land
now changing hues
announce the day

In awe at the sight
I find I fold
my hands and pray

Leaving dawn behind
through birds eye view
a scene unfurls

Clusters of light on
snow covered ground
through misty swirls

The melancholy
feeling almost gone
I rest my head

And think about a love
that once might have been
but never really had

Jan 112011
 

It is not some
treasure in a
far and strange
land

Or a hidden
clue in the
palm of your
hand

Some think it is
buried deep in
the mind or
soul

Others believe
the secret is
too hard a
goal

Live life as if
it truly is
a beautiful
gift

And in the end
you will be glad
that you have
lived

Jan 092011
 

Dozens of pigeons
pruning themselves
on a ledge of a tall
building in Chinatown
in the afternoon
winter sun.

Even from a distance
the iridescent quality
of the feathers was
clearly visible for
anyone who bothered
to look up.

The birds looked
undoubtedly royal to
me and I realized
that the feeling of
being the statue
or the pigeon is only
a state of mind.

Jan 072011
 

Icicles hanging off a roof or telephone line, silent, cold, some longer, some short, some perfectly symmetrical and others curved, depending on how much the elements played a part in their creation. Glistening like precious stones whenever the winter sun reflects in their glass-like appearance. Unaware of the precarious hold they have on whatever they are clinging to.

How similar are our lives to these wintry stalactites. We are all different too. Some of us manage to live long lives, our successful existence obvious by our appearance. And there are those among us that are simply iridescent and need very little outside help to shine and sparkle wherever we are. Others again seem to have suffered greatly and barely manage to exist, hardly noticeable, really.

No matter what our lives look like, just like the icycles, we all came from the same source, and we all wind up being the same again in the end. Next time, when you see an icycle, take a moment to reflect on that. Not much is needed to simply break our lives at the root, circumstances totally beyond our control that determine how our lives will be lived, or end. Remember also, the largest and most beautiful icycle that you admire so much will catch the most sun and will start to melt first and is most likely to come loose before the others from what seemed a solid base, either by wind, or by the hand of a curious child who wants to lick this icy treat.

Surrounded by others, we feel safe in our belief that nothing will ever change. Think again. Enjoy your splendour, your success. But don’t forget where you came from. And if you can prevent another from melting too fast, or breaking off before his or her time, you too will sparkle and shine where it counts the most. In your heart.