there i was
sitting in australia,
what a failure
south west thirteen
in the company of a black swan
my mind was kind of hurting
from thinking about all of life
and nothing in particular
exit five thousand
try not to be particular
a wander by the thames
ten thousand memories
half grey, (a hundred more steps)
the rest
is history (the ancient kind)
so I settled in the walled garden
an orchard filled with apple trees
and tall tall sunflowers
and I sighed, an easy sigh
cos despite it all
life is the shit
it's beautiful
there's so much of it
beauty in the small details
the sunlight on an orchid
the crimson of his beak
the silence, the solitude, the freedom
what more does one need?
here be everything
