The unseen violinist plays late at night;
Long drawn out tones that tremble with emotion;
The patch of land lies bare and unspoilt,
An array of paths that weave through trees,
Deep in the forest.
A coat of snow.
An outline of sun,
Peeping through branches.
The sand rolls ahead, a rippling carpet,
Smooth and pure under the glow of the moon.
Dreams and shadows. Fragments chase each other as reality and fiction blur and time loses
The car starts to slow its pace,
Weaving down a trail with bumps in the ground,
A railway bridge with railings both sides,
A concrete walkway with graffiti on a wall,
The pianist lifts his arms,
His hands come crashing down.
The bass notes growl, an ominous
An orchestral flood,
Loud and passionate,
The music reaches all corners of the Great Concert
An early morning awakening.
Past and present merge.
I’m in an unfamiliar
The other summer, long ago.
The dancing waves filling the bay with music.
The clouds sailing
He stands by a loose turf of grass, gazing down at the shore, watching her sprint to the sea and dig
Water, pure but refreshing,
Simple but lifesaving.
Water tastes of nothing,
Yet has a
The sunlight falls like a mist,
An ancient waterfall among trees;
A chilly morning with a hint
The moon appears, faint in the distance.
Darkness has settled,
Heavy like a
A cauldron of doubts and anxieties,
Simmering away, bubbling.
A growl that gets
The thirst to explore.
The World Wide
Dark skies in the middle of the day
Rain blowing in gales across fields