While Alive

When we fall down, when we land, when we lay
upon the bedrock, do we look up? Or do we close
our eyes, and make do, roll the dirt around us,
invite the insects to have discussion, play with god;

Inseparable Uniqueness

.

In the Ever Shifting whirl of Time

Where Illusory Perception plays our senses

Like doubtful fire

Dancing in tempestuous writhing Guise

Heaven Scent

 

They say smell is the most evocative sense,

it dredges up long forgotten memories

and brings them to the fore, intense.

Perfume that wisps by on a passing breeze,

the musky salt of a fishing harbour,

the lush green grass freshly mown,

the warm spice scent of father back from the barber

lightly dusted with cologne.