An almost overcast sky aroused by the vivid glow of remaining sunlight.

The distant horizon high on its shoulder-blades, an abundance of wooded enclosures.

In the foreground the naked skeletons of empowering figures,

their appearances determined by nature’s ever-changing seasons.

A silent force dictates degrees of movement to these fragile silhouettes,

as the delicate birdsong provides a subtle accompaniment.

A sunlight that shines down, through the trees of the deserted parkland.

The silent calm, today as yet, undisturbed by human presence,

But broken cautiously by nature’s delicate song.

A unified silence as we pass before each other,

Driven to reach a diverse range of destinations.

Journeying with intent, our minds occupied by those issues relevant only to ourselves,

Oblivious to our surroundings and least not to those who have chosen to share our path.

She is feeling quite lost and wants to be at ease again.  She is ready for this period in her life to be over now, so finds irritation at the thought that it is not.  She does not feel she has direction, only the desire to travel and discover new environments and new cultures.  Perhaps so that she can feel fresh and alive again, for currently she lies stranded in the commitment of the period that encapsulates her now.

Perhaps by moving it gently the tenacious pressure will subsequently ease, but the likeliness of that is not foreseeable.  Therefore she must live with the incredibility of this built-up anxiety, that lessens for nothing and for no-one and lies triumphantly with great will at the top of the impossible mountain.

It hangs over her and sits as a constant reminder inside of her.

There can be no letting go it seems,

and no where to run to, for avoidance.

It seems to speak to her,

but without words.

It seems to take a physical grasp over her,

but lays not one finger.

Its presence is undesired,

unwanted and unsought.

But she is trapped,

dominated by its over-powering strength.

It has been in existence

for what feels like a lifetime.

Its cruelty a daily threat

and endless mind-game.

When with those around her,

she has used all will-power

to withhold the agitated surge

that frequently tries to escape.

But behind closed doors

she becomes vulnerable again.

And always by the end of the day

she loses her fight in the relentless battle.

So it guides her, leads her

and takes control of her.

And she obeys

helpless to do anything but what is asked.

It is like an external force,

yet it comes from within

and its cruelty is so much

she cannot pause for breath.

She knows that they cannot understand,

comprehendible it is not.

Lack of control over oneself

is not explainable.

Unless they too,

have themselves experienced,

this dictating, controlling and unforgiving,

tiresome insanity.

as if its slate had been subject to a night-time overhaul.

She went through the motions that were her morning routine,

quickening her pace as time had as always, sped past her,

as routine resulted in a relaxed mindset.

Or maybe she was just thinking of other things?

That would be more realistic,

her mind was always a mass of thoughts and emotions.

It did not relax, it lived in constant frenzy,

but perhaps it survived that way.

From the taxi’s backseat she watched with tired eyes a social story unfold.

Entranced by the contrasting behaviour of human activity,

and the awareness that every being from this network,

carries with them a story that is solely their own.

Her feet remained still at the edge of the platform,

but her pupils began to dance once again.

New stories, involving new arrivals and new departures,

a re-occurring aspect of life’s journey.

The swarming process around red doorways

as temporary uncertainty kicks in to all who wait around her.

The impulsive desperation,

just to ensure comfort is obtainable.

Although she seems to remain more patient than the rest,

she too hurries on.

A mental alarm-bell reminding her that it will be necessary to face in the right direction,

to prevent her own discomfort.

A muddled scramble, an act of dispersion,

she quietly and suitably positions herself and her belongings

and in seconds she feels the familiar hum and glide.

A glass panel makes the division between her and the picture book outside,

but it also seems to carry her away.

Whisking her through the imagery,

preventing her from absorbing much that she sees,

despite her careful determination.

A silence contradicted by variations of animated chatter surround her,

but mentally she switches them off

and indulges in her own thoughts and emotions,

feeling pleasure in this rare opportunity for contemplation.

surge of emotion,

lost on the lip of the mountain.

Pulled taut,

yet waves thrash.

Burning vibration,

endless pulsation,

red isolation.

Jagged detachment…

your barrier, your perimeter, your shell.

As days passed,

it seemed as if you began to absorb me,

your guise becoming less prominent,

your emotions more transparent.

In time you softened,

each layer revealing further vulnerability,

and your pulsating sensitivity seeped in,

enwrapping itself with mine.

and the occasional hint of land below.

Only clear by the glimpse of shadow,

that can be spied through gentle partitions in puffy cloud formations.

When high enough, their formations

seem to create the surface of another land.

An uplifting land

and one so far removed from that of the complicated earth beneath.

Descending through the cloud

it feels as if I must hold my breath

in fear of suffocation.

For what reason I am unsure,

perhaps the knowledge that life’s reality shall hit me once again.

Pulling me into its entangled web,

crushing my airborne freedom

and preventing me from any further reflection.

varying hues of orange and white.

The continuous hum of vaporetto as they make their way up and down the Canal.

Beside me stand others, speculating on what they see,

whilst those down below add volume to restaurant chatter.

Top left, the moon with its vivid glow,

standing bright against the stark blue/black sky.

-It appears to look down upon this tiny island,

keeping a watchful eye.

An island which is so enchantingly beautiful,

that it is almost impossible to except that its existence is not merely a dream.

This bridge will always hold with it memories…

For now though I use it as a place of contemplation.

A place to see inside my heart.