We must grasp at life, every unbelievable moment.
Savour every breath of fresh air.
Wonder at what we see.
Listen to the orchestra of birds.
Inhale every distant fragrance.
Taste the storm.
We must do all this if we are to truly live.
When none of this matters anymore, then we have ventured into nowhere.
Embrace companionship, hug close love, however that may be shown or expressed.
Who we are is what is so precious - to give and to receive, to accept each other as human beings.
To be happy with that.
Too often we seek the ideal that is nurtured in a wish.


Real
Real is behind closed eyes,
Behind skin veil,
Where sound is a picture,
Changing on mind’s whim,
Beyond this tired body,
Across every hedgerow
and treetop,
Far into the cool blue,
Faster than racing clouds,
To where it is,
And to where it belongs,
Power images that give life peace,
For it is the joy of every sense
played quietly,
Where this real is nourished,
And gossamer curtain is never raised.
© Michael Garrad November 2009