You won't find happiness
Buried like bones in the deep earth
Of your pain
But perhaps in some idle
Unlooked-for corner
A bud unfurls
And finds your eyes instead.

Musings on Upheaved Markets and Downheaved Monies

When I watch the numbers fall
In my own wallet
And taste poorer air I'd sworn I put behind me
With each regular paycheck push

When I realised that savings
Are more noun than verb
And I dangle fretfully

A spider on a single silky thread

I see that in the balance

The world I hold is my own fragile creation

Dangling in the fickle breeze of entropy
Until at last my slippered grip falters
I fall upon gravity's sword
Only to find it a ploughshare

It isn't so much the distance
That divides us
But the distance
Within us
That holds on with trembling fingers
To the tiger
We daren't dismount

I am curled around,
Spun into myself
Engaged in unmaking
Of being unmade
I unfurl my hands
Against the universe
As if to halt the slipping sands
Or turn back the whole
Upon my axis
Only to be bitten by the gears
And curled against
The solid stuff
Which will hold no ears for argument