When iridescent light collided with dark matter you were conceived. (Again)
In places of decadence beyond my perception, we interweave.(Event)
Saturated with strands of fiber from the great traits handed on
from the souls that speak without words aloud, but are glean, nundating and heard.
The transition we vaguely recall in our dreams as bairn sprits.
That reminds that we are small, that we travel forever in time.
Heading towards wisdom gained and amassed in collection, ( destination)
we stay a course towards becoming more than we can dream.
As we try to recall each time it occurred, it fades away like seasons.
Yet, I feel the grains filling the trug of my heart and mind.
Once the star is born, fusion becomes life, becomes red, becomes white, then becomes darkness.
The circle continues and begins again with a conscience remembering of all that is gained, all that is lost, and all that we'll become. (Sparks)
It's very true you never know
When they will make a fool of you
Imagine the scene was in the local church
The priest was enthuising about
It being Harvest Festival time
He spots young Mali walking down the aisle
Dressed in a lovely shiny blue dress
Carrying a trug of fruit and veg for the festival
Smiling and looking like an angel
Here comes Mali looking gorgeous
Bends to take the trug off her
whispers quietly, Mali you look really beautiful
The dress is so perfect for you,
When clearly into the hidden mic
A sweet little voice said
“My mother says it’s a bugger to iron”
The congregation were convulsed with laughter
except for one red faced woman
who wished the floor would open up
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