In my little finger, buried deep, is a splinter
I hardly noticed it at first
but it twinges, it feels strange
and the skin is not healing over it
I try prising it out with a needle and make myself bleed
This produces more pain than the splinter
so I leave it awhile, ignore it, but it twinges
feels strange and the skin will not heal
In my mind is a splinter
I hardly noticed it at first but it twinges.
It feels strange and wakes me in the dark
I try to uproot it only to feel ashamed
so I place my thoughts elsewhere, but it twinges
and I find myself awake, eyes wide searching the darkness
Outside there is a splinter
a thorn so long it pierces earth, sea and sky
a thundercloud bursting with bitterness
I glance up and feel hopeless, heart hammering
frustration with myself, with all of you
Why? Why did we just leave it there?
Who? When? Where? How did it grow so large?
I just have to look away.
I ignore it, count my blessings, try to stay positive
The Earth is now a stranger
Half of the harp strings are detuned.
A discordant song rises up with the moon
Imagine. Just imagine a life free from splinters.
Could there be a sanctuary of sweet somnolence?
A wonder of Oneness?
The Universe sliding into blessed oblivion slaps itself
Shockwaves ripple into tidal waves
an endless ocean of motion and emotion
cycles, seasons, madness and reasons,
a symphony of cacophony in starbursts
the splintery splendour of Life