The day is what you make it

This day is whatever you make it:
A tick of the clock, passing unnoticed,
Or a deep tock, solemn as ritual.
On this day three years ago my mother died
Taking with her my link to the past,
A kindred spirit gone forever.
A year on I cried;
Two years on I forgot;
Three years on I practice remembering
This day is what you make it,
If you remember nothing else,
Remember that.


No Prize to be Won

If you cannot be content amidst life’s chaos,
You cannot be content.
For true happiness is not built in a vacuum,
Or kept safe on the printed page.
Like life it bursts through barriers;
Profiting from destruction,
Adapting to setbacks.
If you are not happy when life goes badly,
You will not be happy when it offers you a gift.
So ask yourself:
Would I do it if there was no point to be proved,
No prize to be won?


We have the freedom
To choose differently;
To train diligently;
To change our world;
By changing ourselves.

Or we can try and stay the same,
Until our world grows dark,
Behind the dusty curtain of our eyes.


Instinct is slavery for the mind,
But freedom for the soul.


There is always more:
More to discover;
More to see;
More to live.
There is no greater tenet,
Than this open ended and infinite inspiration

Thoughts like stars

Thoughts like stars coalesce in the dark:
We do not see the air we breathe,
Like politicians taking credit or assigning blame
For the tide;
A program loop left running,
The lights are on but it’s not our home;
A game we play,
Without realising we’re players,
Until the meteor streaks through the empty sky
And it’s over.


Change is excitement;
The unknown gives birth
To a new situation.
Improvisation demanded,
Adaption the keystone
Of this emerging framework.
Centered and still in the midst of the storm,
The faster it flies the stronger I am,
Balanced on the axis of the world.
Its equator’s my horizon
And the coming dawn is beautiful,
So let the adventure begin

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected