Descent #1

selfish little minotaur

My friend described the gift,
He shook, he railed, he spat
His ire at me

I took the gift, though not from him
And I discarded it as not enough

I rolled a 5, took 3 steps
And left the game

I left the party
I left the room

It is not true that being alone

What point is joy when I, so easily
Discard its value

I am gifted Wonder
I can bank it when I can be trusted

I am gifted Wonder
I can bank it when I can be trusted

At some point


I had said … there is to be a film. That is what I am going to do.

I had set my destination. I had gripped the throttle and was ready to watch the landscape speed by.

I understood that there is a large amount of plodding, actual learning to be done. I envisaged the final place – I had ideas of how it should be, I could see its gentle magnificence… mostly I could sense it was an idea that if only realised would be something.

I had inspiration and I had some material with which to make a start … what else is there that is needed to begin?

Untold inspiration informed me of the struggle, the toil and sweat, the satisfaction of step on step … the reward of failure and victory.

I understood that, felt it like a familiar overcoat.

A tentative stab at progress … and yet, nothing

No meaning, no intention, no personal desire to conclude this journey.

Maybe I am just not cut out for this, it is suggested

‘That’s okay’ is offered.

The world is folding itself into a neatly arranged wardrobe, grey and shapeless. I am slipping into the pocket of an anonymous pair of trousers and finding myself muffled and quietly set upon the lower shelf of forgotten attire.

The mothballs are deaf to my whimper.

Hedgerows silent when I call.

It is what I am

‘That’s okay’, is whispered into my slumbering ear

The doldrums of contentment.

No squeaks or wharbling, wake my sleeping 

Nor beating of any heart from across the way

I am falling

‘That’s okay’

Is cackled


And there I go