Saturday, 2 June 2012


Wheels of paradigm should not be so inclined
To maintain the grinding of the soul's seeds
Flouring petals denied their bloom

Wheels of paradigm may never be inclined down slopes
Less explored, dust and hopes
Ignore petals allowed their glory

Slumber cyclic dreams
Self fulfilled fear
Comfort of the known caress 
Lulled, gentle turning and returning

    The broken mind knows its mind
    And doesn't mind its paradigm
    A broken mind seeks to find
    Another mind beyond its kind

Fingers of change push in to the damp soil of the heart
Lifting and turning, feeling for smothered bulbs
That long for light to shine radiant petals
Breaking through broken wheels that were inclined
To explore dust and hope

The cycle of growth breaks dreams
Of comforting caress
Exposing to sunlight, creating duress
To change, to roll wheels
Kick heals, new ideals

Dry bulb's sleeping petals
Burst colour, life
Undreamed, unformed

Never too late