Faith may blind
But cynicism deadens
Find then the way
Where wonder can possess
Yet eyes still see clearly



Weary as the sea
That must make one more wave
Before being dashed  against the shore

Crescent Moon

Beautiful crescent moon
High above the clouds
Tiny sail in a vast ocean of sky
Whose ethereal light brings hints of knowledge
To the tangled shadows of our ignorance
Whose dark iris under lidded umbra
Opens onto a mystery not meant for light of day

Nothing more

A single tree
Stands in silhouette
Against the failing light
Nothing more is needed

Merry go round

Rooks thrown across the skyline
Like paper bags in the wind
Toddler sits on the merry go round
The centre of his own storm
Be at the centre of your own storm

Like love

Cruel day when moved to hate
Those I love the most
Yet perhaps like love after all
Honesty in trying times

(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected