40.There’s Nothing So Sweet. (July ’14)

Version one of the “There’s nothing so sweet” duo. I was really paying attention to the numbers there.

40.There’s Nothing So Sweet. (July ’14)

 There’s nothing so sweet as unrequited,

And nothing so unrequited as long lost and gone,

It’s not that the past is a golden country,

But time polishes up things till they shine

While old memories keep crashing and breaking,

Like pebbles knocking each other into sand

And too often,

Too often I’ve remembered,

Those things which I’ve missed,

For which I still pine,

Like some old records and old loves,

Then right on cue you come to mind,

Old longings arise with old questions,

Old curiosities that prick the soul,

So.

So often I’ve wondered,

Where are you now,

What have you done,

Were your demons kind to you

Did they bleed you dry,

Did they leave you alone,

To ponder and cry,

Have you ever had peace,

In your mind and your soul,

Have you ever felt,

Felt your one and the whole,

 

Wearied and rain bound there’s the chorus,

The birds as usual they laugh right on time,

And in their crying for laughing I realise,

As the dawn brings light to these eyes,

It’s gotten too early to be considered too late,

Except where you’re concerned.

(c) Jim Laing 2014.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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About Jim Laing

The Buddha said there were four kinds of people. Those who run from dark to dark, those who run from light to dark, those who run from dark to light and those who run from light to light. From a life going from dark to dark to having a few years running from dark to light, with scuffed hands and knees from sometimes falling, I may be getting the hang of it now. How it began is not now how it is, I need a quiet space, After the noise of the day, So I take sanctuary in the creativity, And my soul feeds, On sometimes dark, Sometimes light fantasy, And I dare like many to work, But stay up off my knees, To dream, perchance to suffer, But always still to dream. Here are things mostly lyrical and poetic, with nonsense sometimes, reviews and personal musings. The coffees hot and always black. The words not necessarily so.
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