The Blue Book

Human Voices

until human voices wake us,
and we drown
in the simple fact
that we were not dreamt up by gods;
it is us who dream the divine,
who concoct catharsis

and then forget

unless we are lucky enough
to watch a year of sunsets,
or listen to a stream,
or attend to one -
just one - true thing
without asking what it is

as if unfinished dreams waft up
from our sleep-worn eyes,
dusty and cracked;
a place where beauty
comes in unbeautiful ways
and headaches serve
as road signs reminding
us that no-one arrives alive

and then again

on romantic evenings spent playing
truth or dare with a false world,
we might just get the sense that now
(because everything is inevitable)
after a century of stone and silence

it stirs, recomposes itself,
and begins once more:
a lotus by a still lake,
dreaming the only dream.


Teen Spirit

Waking Life