A fleeting dream

Like the smell of green grass after a rain

You seeped into my home in a monsoon day

As I look up in the sky to pray

The rain shower gently kisses my face.

Like the warmth of fire in a winter evening

You wrap me in your gentle arms under a starry night.

I gaze upon the blank canvas full of shimmering lights

As I slowly let go of all my fright.

Like the sweet scent of a wild flower

You stop me and command my senses.

I search for you in the wilderness

Uncertain of my mortal fate.

Like the constellation Orion in the heaven

You guide me back home to myself.

We pace through the forbidden forest along this raging stream.

Oh God! Let this not be just a fleeting dream.

Theatre

 

 

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Port Arthur, Tasmania. 2017

 

The curtain never falls

And the show carries on

The stage is all red

With blood stains and the dead.

Onlookers stare in indifference

In the half-empty theatre.

They think it’s all merely a show

Seated in comfort arranged in rows.

The puppets cry and weep

Unable to break free of the strings.

They are all killed in the end.

No one is spared, not even a dear friend.

The silent cries fade away in the wind.

As the little girl sits in the dust

Her hand grips a disfigured doll.

She wonders,” must the show still go on.?”