To walk this Earth,
No mountain needs moving
And no sea parted.
They’re formidable obstacles
And we have not such skills.
But why would we need them
When we can do
Things so much better.
We can make the mountain
Turn it into
The gentlest slope,
And change the ocean into
The calmest lake.
To walk this Earth,
No obstacle needs removing,
But they need understanding
And to be respected
For what they are.
So when you see water,
You swim or build a bridge.
When you see inclines,
You learn to go uphill.
When you see drops,
You either go down or around.
It’s like riding a horse –
You go with the movement.
So to walk this Earth,
You only need to follow
The path that
You were given already.
I saw a little boy building today,
Towers in spiralling, beautiful forms,
And rejoiced at the sneak-peek
Of tomorrow’s elegant skyline.
I saw a little girl painting today,
A world covered in flowers and sun,
And rejoiced at the assurance that
The towers will be dressed in gardens.
We know that it’s the silliest thing
To tell children that their worlds
Do not respect the rules of ours.
They will draw outside the lines,
And we let them do it in peace.
It’s a shame we forget, however,
To cut ourselves the same slack
And find forms that match our lines
Instead of cramming our colours
Within the stiff pre-existing shapes.
The world would be a better place
If we all closed our eyes to it,
And let ourselves imagine it anew.
If we imagined so hard we truly believed
That buildings are meant to be spirals
And curtains of flowers should adorn them.
We should believe in things that aren’t true
Or else how could they ever become?
Imagining other worlds is easy
The trick is to look at this world,
See it, feel it, understand it,
And imagine it as other, as better,
And all the ways to bring it there.
The turn of page to March has come
On fast winds and gentle sun.
The branches of the trees have filled
With a white and silver gild
That lets off the fresh perfume
Of its special springly bloom.
Other blooms the windows grace,
With their lush flowery lace,
So thick you can hardly see
In the garden what might be.
I think the ground is happy too
With its new and warm updo,
Not again beaten by winds
By which it has been so skinned.
Oh, you spring, so good you came!
… it is only a small shame
That the trees are white with snow
Coming down in steady flow,
That the flowers grow from ice,
Frozen over once, twice, thrice,
And the ground’s new plushy cover
Hugging it like a lost lover
Only holds it warm and spared
Because we weren’t prepared
For the inches of its height
When the snow piled at night.
March, it’s good that you have come…
Any chance you’d bring some sun?
It seems that maybe you forgot
You’re a spring, not winter thought.
We chase the wind and hide in ground,
Chase hope but hide from light and sound.
Ideas run and thoughts subside.
It wouldn’t stay, reason or pride.
Who could hope to get humanity,
Wide, complex, full of vanity?
We’re earth, and mud, and dust combined,
But washed by rain, as heaven cried.
We cast the eyes to hights above,
To hawk and sparrow and to dove.
From our sandy shell of life
We watch the sky to come alive.
And from the rocky edge inside
We see another sky in hide.
This is the wonder of the world,
How beauty can be so much swirled,
Perfection holding its mistakes,
Hiding within as it awakes.
It’s always two parts of a whole:
The sins to darken us like coal
Yet the hope of light and growth,
Mingling good and bad in both.
We are the ones to hold it all,
Gods, while birds to fall.