Tick

Our time is fleeting,
I know it well.
And fleetly yet
It passes by,

Yet I possessing
A sum unknown,
Allow it, passively
to fly.

Sanity, the Penguin

In rose-pink drops, the fragments fall.
The air itself is shattered,
The green-lit sky extends its arms
To those who've been discoloured.

Delusions of a half-crazed mind
Engulf these hands of speech.
Those drapes of blue have fallen too
In Ceremonial
Happy thoughts
of pleasantries
and offices
like matchsticks.

She thinks her brain has been encased
In ugly mouldy yellow.
Watch it grow.

I blame this on the drugs. Okay, so they're just antibiotics. But still.

Our Father, Who Art in Heaven

This twilight
inconceivably awing.
My soul stretches
Yet still cannot accept it.
Beauty spread out on this canvas
before us, behind us,
around us, above us,
flowing ever beneath us.
Liquid elegance.
An enchantment so strong
that your name is inescapable.
Your glory is graven on our eyes.
Yet somehow, it is so simple...
We stand and try
to accommodate these marvels,
and our hearts tremble.
Suddenly, we understand the Israelites -
Awe-inspired fear of God
and their refusal to meet him
face to face.
Oh how small we are, Father.
How small,
and yet how loved.

I wonder why it is so easy to find words to express the lows, but so difficult to express the highs. My words are enough to cover the bad bits, but they are never sufficient, never beautiful enough for the good. It's a bit of a shame really, I want to remember the best bits far more than I want to remember the bad.
I can almost remember this day. Almost. But it was too much, and I can only remember what I could accommodate.