Leaf Life

A leaf drifts down a river, from which tree it fell is unknown.
It tumbles and twists, banging and bumping against rock and stone, its course forever down stream. 
From time to time, the leaf encounters another. They become entangled, drifting in the flow together. 
Through rapid and calm, they journey onward, the current carrying them ever forward.
They catch upon a drift wood piece, and here they rest and settle as the river does rush on past.
Turbulent waters and rubbish too, bash and smash against these leaves. They hold on tight, yet are strained and torn.
And then one day, their bond does part, their partnership has ended and that solitary leaf is alone again.
Further onward the leaf does wash, it floats from river bed to surface, at the mercy of the flow.
Until sometime, the leaf passes beyond, whether sea or structure, the leaf decays, its veins and fibres, torn asunder.
Its journey has ended and the leaf now rests.
That leaf is me.

Brexit Crap

Brexit, I'll put a hex on it, A decision made by the uninformed,
Like asking fish to fly or a cheetah to lie,
The future of our country is left to rot,
All because some of some political sot,
who...drinking and ranting and showing off,
Wanted to show he was the illest toff,
The one with the power to sway the masses,
With a cold faced lie displayed on the buses.

But rather than take the blame,
They put this out to every person the same,
Rich and poor, young and old,
A vote on a system not often seen before,
A chance to break the mould and start a new,
But how the hell did we know what to do,
They're elected and selected to represent,
Picking out the best from our so called government,
They're there to tackle the bureaucratic shizzle,
Instead they're all full of bullshit and fizzle,
And now, with just months to go,
The EU are saying to Britain 'hell no',
‘You can deal with the rubbish you've caused,
A no deal ending is what we've resolved,
You can miss out free movement and trade deals, the lot,
Head back to the good old days you filthy colonial clot.’

To stand on our island, being all proud,
With the racist jerks singing in the crowd,
The other 48% of us, have to struggle on living,
The 52% not a shit they are giving,
Our children won't get the chance to explore,
Instead they'll have the Nazi ass fuckers beating on their door,
Into a black hole we head,
Not a thought or direction, No plans or anything ahead,
Living a life away from our friends,
It all looks like a bleak and dark end,
We have to fight though, on with the push,
Look out racist fascist scumbag, move that arrogant tush.

Let's fly our flags of freedom and hope,
Dangle the racists from 12 foot of rope,
Pull Britain back from the brink of despair,
And get the nation we love back in there,
As part of the EU and then the globe,
We have hope and adventures as yet untold,
I'm proud to say I'm EU for life and don't want to leave,
So please don't exclude just because of these,
Bigots, fascists and racists alike,
I'm nothing like them, they can get on their bike,
I love the EU, I want to remain,
Never once did I ever complain.

If I have to face the democratic result,
Just know that I find it a fucking insult,
For I'm a member of the world and I'm proud,
To be a human, to live fast and loud.
So please don't forget the 48%,
It's not our decision to be so hell bent,
And on that note, I'll close my eyes,
And dream and hope that it's all just lies,
But I know that it's not and next year I'll face,
Possible the most dangerous human based race,
The race to live outside of the union,
Maybe I'll get religious and go to holy communion,
Probably not, but I'm open to suggestions,
Like packing my bags and sitting in congestion,
As I try to leave this fucked up country I'm in,
And carry on out to the world I live in.

So the final phrase is to say cheerio,
I won't say goodbye as I don't want to go.

Grounded

Whilst standing with my feet planted firmly on the ground, I stretch my hands towards the sky, realising that nothing really stands between me and the infinity of the cosmos. Above my head and upwards through the clouds, the enormity of the universe weighs lightly upon my shoulders, its grandeur beautifully displayed before my eyes, its size beyond my comprehension.

The insignificance of my actions, the irrelevance of my thoughts and wants, start to crush in on me. I begin to understand that what I crave and what I long for mean nothing to anyone but myself. I stand alone in an eternity of everything and nothing, the universe is everywhere and nowhere. From the giant binary star systems, to the smallest neutrons and protons that make up an atom, existence in its very essence is nothing but our power to observe and measure the occurrences that seem so consequential and important but in reality, are nothing more than a moment...a moment never repeated and often missed.

So whilst I stand on earth, reaching skywards and dreaming all the impossible dreams, I must learn to let go, to allow my mind to wander, to explore and to create, for the universe is there for the taking, we just have to comprehend how to take it!  

Step one...

I lust for a life of adventure, exploration and discovery.
I dream of dancing on sun-kissed sands, of climbing mountains to their highest peaks, of walking through jungles of lost civilisations, of meeting people from all over the world and sharing stories and tales of lands forgotten and untouched by the modern world.
Each journey starts with the first footstep, gathering momentum and pace as each foot falls one in front of the other. I just need to take that first step!

Winters Touch

The darkest days loom closer, the winter has cometh and the land grows weary and cold. Rain pours from a grey sky, leaves fall and the greens of a now distant summer slip slowly into faded memory. Soon the frosts will come, their cold bite snapping at the heels of those who dare brave their wrath. The snows loom nearer threatening to bringing the freezing death, their path laid bare by the tumultuous furls and crests of the giant ocean tides, blown hither and thither by the winds eternal.
Each day sees the sun fighting with the moon, their eternal war rages overhead as we approach the long lunar nights, the moons chance to hold dominance in a jewel studded ceiling, to dance in the pantheon of the sky's elite and cast the sun asunder from its summer reign.

Animals huddle close for warmth, Birds sit shivering on empty tree branches and subterranean nightmares dig deeper so as to escape the watery purge to which all the land has befallen. Tides have risen, clouds have emptied and the rivers burst their banks. Water floods across field, dell and yard. Every sign of summer has been washed clean.
To look across this land, you would see saturated fields, dripping forests and the destruction wrought by winters foul touch. No joy sings aloud like before. The sounds of life no longer echo from mountain to valley as the young grow and the old reminisce. Now, all that remains, is the steady drip as water soaks this land and its inhabitants hide. Winter brings death and with death comes despair and fear.

So our land braces, these last autumn months spent harvesting the stocks required to tackle such an abominable animal as winter. The fields stripped clean and the orchards emptied, not so much as an ear of corn or a hard crusted apple remain.

Winter is coming...

The return of Bergelmir

The strong northern wind whipped up the loose leaves freshly fallen from the trees either side of the darkened path. The rain crashed down upon the mulch of mud and leaves creating a bog of sticky brown earth that clung to everything that dared enter it's watery hole. Nothing had passed this way for many days and the track was covered with the foliage that fell from those tall oak trees so that the path itself was barely visible. Thunder echoed across the woodland and lightening broke the dark skies with an illuminatingly fervent display as though Thor himself was beating on the clouds with his famed hammer, Mjolnir.
A buck deer ran through an opening in the trees onto the path but was unaware of the shadowed presence mere feet away. The deer stopped, an unknown smell caught its nose but in the tumult of the storm the deer knew not whether to be afraid or to linger a moment longer. A rustle in the trees behind gave the deer indication enough to speed headlong into the woodland on the other side of the now almost invisible path.
The rustle, barely audible above the winds and rain became more prominent, the sound of twigs snapping under foot, branches being wrenched from trunks, something big was stirring in the undergrowth. From this darkened path and with the storm breaking loudly all around, you would easily be forgiven in thinking this was an ancient tree falling from grace, its green topped head leaving the great canopy to rest eternally on the woodland floor. But there was no silence following the initial sounds. No, this was coming from something moving in the night, something big making its way through the old gnarled oak trees, its path uncertain but its direction almost pointed.
Thunder roared in the sky, its murmurs echoing from the mountains off to the east of the woodland path. Lightening blistered the cloud filled sky, its forks stretching from their heavenly abode across the great blanket and down towards the sodden ground. One bolt struck the top of a great oak, the sound was almost deafening and the sparks littered the path as though a hundred fireflies had been swatted from the sky.
As the great oak bowed its head, losing its uppermost branches in a gulf of flame, a solid, gigantic foot stepped on to the path displacing the dirt and leaves in one monstrous step. Mud and filth streamed from it like water from a babbling brook, broken branches and twigs clung to the hair covering the ankle and foot like sheepskin boots, rotten smelling flesh seeped from between the huge toes like puss from an enraged boil.
That foot was joined by another, a shadowed monolith like figure stretched out from the dark of the woodland and stood taller than a man on that dark and storm filled path. Lightening broke the dark skies again but the thunder that followed was as though the Gods themselves were screaming. This figure, roared, its arms held aloft to the skies, it's huge mouth opened showing its great brown and yellow stained jagged teeth, the stench of death on its breath bellowed into the skies joined the winds that were ripping at every part of this woodland. It's eyes, dark pools of solid black, looked into those clouds and it roared again, as if to scare a hole into the storm, to break through the cloud that reached from the treetops to the heavens. It's roars were answered with yet another clap of thunder, this one louder than the last, lightening breaking the skies apart, the clouds whipping like the sea, their tops folding into one another like waves breaking against cliffs.
And then silence.
The giant figure stopped roaring, it's eyes peeled from the heavens to the sudden single shaft of light coursing down from clouds to ground. The figures feet squared across the path which was blown clear of all debris by the storm winds that suddenly subsided. An eerie calm fell across this woodland as though the eye of the storm stood proudly above peering down on the devastation caused by its outer flanks. And from this shaft of light stepped a smaller figure, in stature alone but carrying an air of power and authority. The red hair reached down to his waste, his beard a mass of red stuck strikingly from chin to chest, muscles ripped across the torso and body of this newcomer and in his hands, was a hammer.
'Giant' yelled this red haired newcomer, 'I thought you all but dead?'
The hairy and rotten smelling figure raised a hand as if to silence this red haired upstart, a groan creaked from the giant, its knees buckled and it grasped the top of a nearby oak tree as if to steady itself.
The newcomer approached, hammer slung over naked shoulder in an almost cocky manner. Again he spoke, 'Giant, will you yield before me and allow me the pleasure of escorting you to the realm from which you are meant to reside within?'
This giant figure, breath shallow, steadied by hundred year old oaks, dripping in dirt and filth, made no sign of acknowledgement.
The Hammer swung from shoulder and landed deftly in the bearers other hand, he paced ever forward to the great hulk of a beast leaning so uneasily against the tops of these ancient oaks, the glimmer of hope crossed his eyes as he approached.
'I will not ask you again Giant, will you take to the knee and allow me the service of returning you to whence you came?'
And at that moment, time seemed to freeze. The wind was gone, the rain had stopped, the sky was like a dark and silent river, smooth and deep. The Giant lurched, more power emanating from that grotesque body than was thought possible, its steps long and determined, its eyes set upon its prey. With one bound, the giant stood with the red haired figure clenched within its fist, his neck and shoulders easily wrapped by the giants fingers.
'You should be more mindful of your words and to whom you speak them too' the giant growled at his handful, 'for I am no mere giant. I have come to claim what is mine and take back what was stolen from my Grandfather.'
The red haired figure could hardly breath let alone challenge the giant. The fingers tightened around his neck, this red haired man's face turning a deep crimson.
'Your Father and his Brothers killed my Grandfather.' roared the giant.
Still the grip tightened around the red haired figures neck, the veins seemingly leaping from his skin as if ready to snap.
Rain started to fall again, the wind slowly started to return to the woodland. The trees and the mountains watched as the giant held his prey clenched solidly in his grasp.
'Go home Aesir, tell your Father I am coming, tell him that not even all the armies of Valholl and Folkvangr combined can stop what is coming. Tell him, that Ragnarok has dawned and his death with be at my hands.'
The giant launched the red haired man across the woodland path towards the shaft of light still reaching down from the heavens, so that the breathless body slammed down into the rain soaked mud floor with an almighty thump.
The red haired man raised himself slowly, gasping for breath, unable to stand fully on his own. All might and conceitedness gone. 'Who are you?' he quivered.
The giant, stood tall, menacing and huge, his earlier need for tree top support gone, a fire danced in those black pits called eyes. The stench of death and the grime that clung to his body seemed to be running from him as if this violence washed him clean.
'Tell your Father that I, Bergelmir, Son of Thrudgelmir and Grandson of Ymir, have come to take back what is rightfully mine, everything! Ragnarok has begun and I am the bringer of your doom!'
And with that, the Giant turned and walked back into the woods. Lightening flashed and thunder boomed and the red haired man had gone. And the woodland once again was filled by storm, leaves flew from branches, trees bowed in the wind and mud grew thicker with rain. Yet a chill had come now, blown from the North, the Fimbul wind, the third of the harsh winters.
Ragnarok was looming.

Told...

'What am I doing here?' I found myself asking.

'You are questioning the unquestionable, fathoming the unthinkable and figuring out what you are all about! Yet you remain, hooked by your own self constraint, you lack belief and the fact is that you are scared to go it alone.'

'And who are you to observe my life in such a way, to make judgement calls like that?' I retorted in a harsh tone.

'I am everything you want to be and everything you dream of, I am the gateway to the unknown and the river between the banks of memories.'

I quivered slightly as the voice deepened and the tone grew grim, the figure turned to me.

'You are the reason your life is what it is, you create, you destroy. Be witness to yourself. You wish to run, you wish to hide away from it all, you want pity from others, their words and actions to comfort you. Yet we both know that their words cannot heal you.
What is done, is. What will be, is not.
Be your own strength, carve your own course. Stand tall, be strong and realise, this is your life.'

Again...

I stand guilty of sin without so much as having lifted a finger,
Accused and cursed upon for being nothing more than myself,

"Not good enough, not attentive enough, mean and nasty."

Always putting others first but yet constantly rejected,
Trying so hard even when my actions are unseen,

"Selfish, self absorbed and anti-altruistic."

I've fought too long, stood too hard, my every move is doubted,
Confusion lays across our paths and clarity is abandoned,
I offer retribution upon my own self being,
A trimming of the soul and the lust for life is fleeing,
I've offered up my very life in mortal flagellation,
But the decrying spirit I heralded loud seemed lacking with intention,

Always wishing the unity would prosper,
And finally the end of worry and doubt would stop from her,
Alas I think that time has come to settle hands
Down weapons and tools, raise the white flag and be done,
From within and without, the end of days faced alone!

A story to explain...

The great door slowly closes, the last of the good moments rush away, trailing with the last of it disappears the hope of rebirth.
I turn to see the pillars of this time crumble and buckle, the roofs shatter like a hammer striking a mirror, no more shall this place be. It folds as if imploding, the stresses and cracks widen like the mouth of some huge beast, all that was will be gone.

Cracking through the settling dust comes a light, the dawn of now possible new beginnings shines brighter than before, unmarred by the towers and steeples that filled the skyline. The smell of the unknown drifts on the wind across the arid plains of this former glorious place.
My eyes search listlessly over the hollow of what had been, the broken vestibules and towers lie heaped and ruined. No signs of life remain. I linger just a moment longer, the last bit of hope being chewed over, a certain emptiness descends and grips upon my shoulders, the chill of it creeping down my spine.

As I turn to leave, a shadow tricks across my vision, the faintest of movements, a ghost of the recently past. I wave a hand across my eyes as a single tear rolls down my face, a trick of the light or the sad end of that which was and will no longer be. With a heavy heart and a vigour-less step, I leave. It is the end and no matter what is said or done, life has played its bitterest hand.

Well Done Great Britain

The Olympics has warmed my soul. Seeing humanity standing shoulder to shoulder, celebrating and reflecting upon all that was, all that is and all that will be. 
For one brief moment, we were the human race, standing tall as giants and caring not for colour, creed or religion, but enjoying life, love and the moment. Well done GB, you made me proud!