A little view: A poem 

O Dad! Your asters have legs 

They walked with me all these years 

This memory’s hangings with pegs 

An ambrosia of love always endears 

O Mum! Your voice is still music 

There’s volume in this album of magic 

I have rewound the lyrics in repeated flicks 

Your flame is always burning on my wick 

And nothing can break me, nothing can take me 

The truth is earth, not a rising and ebbing sea 

The red sparks of emotion are of fire born 

Even tragedy bears equanimity; the air is dawn 

I am motion and motionless in time’s face 

Your little cocoon gives me enough leg space 

There is a trickle of dew, that to me is not few 

There is unimaginable vastness in the little to view 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

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