Forward

Amidst these broken towers, these relics of Babylon, a soul lives. I know it through the expressive way it licks the empty remnants these empty eye sockets. The experience of all things as things – and metaphor -congruently hungry, adding sweetness to desire.

Passion is the fruit of absence and abundance.

Freedom is knowing I don't have to protect what is infallible.

Joy and Vision and Empathy.

Running with the spark. Setting fires in the days, extinguishing them in sleep.

Waiting away harm.

Lost inside the beggars pantomime.

Awaiting twilight coolness,

to dim the flame.

I am still here. Whole, complete and unmarred. On foot in, one eye out. Not blind to the gypsy crowd gathering behind me. Navigating new mental territories, still map-less and coming up fine. Lipstick ready on he banks of the Brisbane River.

Better left to let the bleed cover the tracks.

There's no way out but forward.