Sparkles

A thousand sparkling eyes blink at me through the wet beads,

Glowing bright yellow as they close in,

Swooping down the wide grey path in ecstatic fury

And then they fade as they pass,

Forgetting me in their rush

And frantically hurrying on in search of some foreign goal,

Private to me, but all of them share the same one

Because they all pass me and carry on with no thought for what they’ve left behind

Though they probably surge along those same paths the next day

And follow the same way as me.

But still I do not understand them

And their silent eyes flicker to tease me as they glisten

In waves of light, and in dark blankets, too.

An Other World

“Is there an other world,” the daisy asked,

 

“that lies beyond what I can see?

 I nod my head and dance to the sun

 but really, all I can see is me.

 I don’t exist because of who I am,

 I exist because you named me:

 if you weren’t here, if I wasn’t there

 then where would I be?”

 

“That other place,” the fog replied

 as it slithered across the skin,

 seeped into every grassy hair,

 fed tables that lay within.

“That other place where no one goes,

 where no one’s been before

 except, of course, for these and those

 and the ones in between less and more.”

 

“Can I visit them?” the daisy asked,

 as she sang her little song.

“Don’t hurry God,” the fog replied,

“He’ll send you there ere long.”

 

If I was a dreamer like everyone else

If I was a dreamer like everyone else, would the sun glitter as brightly? or would I be more attracted to the moon?

Do you think I'd say as much as other dreamers tend to do;
or would I keep my mouth shut tight, only smiling to kiss you,
to tell you that I loved you and that the night was black,
or that the stars were headlights and each planet a component of tarmac?

Do dreamers tell their worlds apart,
or is every dream the same,
identical in end and start
and common to the name?
Am I a dreamer like everyone else,
or is my world an apple tree -
one that grows and lives and dies in simple unity?
with what exactly I don't know,
to be sure, neither do you,
but apple trees grow rather well
when you let them do as they will do.
If I was a dreamer like everyone else,
I don't know who I'd be.
But I'm quite content if we exist
with you as you
and me as me.

Understand?

I understand.

I stand under the stars, 
watch aliens in a cartoon that are stars,
see cells in a brain that are brains -
and I understand.

But then, I stand under those same stars 
and see aliens
watch a baby grow, 
and see life
walk on the sand, 
(and realise that commas are not yet comatose)
and realise that where I stand is neither
where I stood a second ago, nor 
where I'll ever stand again.

Standing there;
a planet in a universe,
a universe of planets,
I sometimes think I understand.

But then I stand up,
or did I just stand down?
Put my hand up,
drop my hand down.
Reach for the stars,
or are they just straws?
(maybe they're imaginary alien's jaws)

I took a step, 
I took a stand,
But funny, somehow, I don't understand.

Do you understand?