All muses flown, mind
a colourless pen - silence
washes the canvas

and so the rains came and brought with them that final, unexpected, slither of silence, the breath before the mutilation of the moment in the words forming within the earpiece...the point of euphemism, as if to avoid the cold certainty, the stark reality with all of the loss and sorrow which encapsulates this moment...

Memories ascend, here, into a protective framework, remind you that they still exist, that there is some kind of continuation to set against the vortex of evolving comprehension...an hour here and there upon the merits of moving a comma in a line, longer spent upon the precise annunciation of some anonymous phrase in a dylan song...and then there was Tom Paine...mostly though there was just joy...the knowledge that it would never be less than time well spent, that each meeting would offer treasure for the memory, fuel for darker days; for these days.

but it's also a day for the celebration of friendship...those which have now relinquished the physical form and those that we walk with still; those friendships which become the path you choose, become the lights by which you have guided yourself, the lights which whisper of harbours and homes...which renounce those boundaries of time and of form..some chapter ends, each character remains relevant to the continuing tale...in dreams we'll meet, as we always have...i return to yeats, change one word in denunciation of those borderlands we impose... “that I have such friends.”


And as the waters merge with maps we find a changed landscape, where untrodden avenues are become cul de sacs, the future containing infinitely less possibilities than it had, the cacophony finding a moment of melodic precision while, outside, the weather matches the mood as if the heavens themselves had noted the changing spheres...a day of rain, of sorrow and remembering...and of celebration...one minute of pandemonium, a glass of red wine with an espresso and malt whisky to accompany it...a selection of rarefied scents for the refined palate of a ghost should he choose to visit on his way past...