Sunday, 9 February 2014


The voices that come and go
Push me there and back
Right to the very edge
Then back

Like a yoyo in the hands
Of my conscience
I hang on a thin thread
Every other minute
I'm undone

It is sweet huddled up
In this warm cocoon
Must the butterfly be born
Can it not stay a larvae?

I let love in 
I made it reign
Now it demands more
That I be brave

Nowhere to hide
It's broad daylight
No more shadows
For cover ups
Every filthy linen
Was washed, and dried
And I stand naked
Void of shame

To burst out
And blind mortal eyes
With colours never before seen
To remember 
That I too can fly
And leap
Is the script.

But the world 
Is a large, gaping
Abyss of the known unknowns

And I'm afraid to face it.