As I walk through the shadows
and the streaks of sunlight
on a bright and beautiful Sunday morning,
as I listen to the sound of birdsong,
as I watch the ducks and the geese
awaken and then glide effortlessly
across the water of a nearby pond,
as the multiple white trails of jet planes
can be seen creating their own
patterns across the blue sky above,
I am once again reminded of how much
there is to be grateful for -
while I am also reminded of
what has been lost and who,
and what, will continue to stand
the test of time and nature.
As I look at the numerous green leaves of trees,
as I look at the intricacy of the petals of the flowers,
as I look at the blades of grass
as they move passively after
being touched by the tenderness
by the gentle breeze,
as I look across the rolling fields
and I see hay bales waiting to be collected,
I think back to simpler times
when I lived as if there was no tomorrow
and when I took the presence of people
in my life for granted without even knowing it.
As I see the poetry of life all around me,
as I glimpse moments of timelessness,
as I witness instances that make me
reflect upon the past, as well
as the world of the now,
I wonder about how far I have come
and how far I still have yet to travel,
and how my experience of life
is unique to me and to me alone -
but I also continue to feel as if,
though I am on a solo journey of discovery,
I have been, and I will always be, reminded
of the incredible connection that I have
always felt to this world of colour, beauty,
inspiration, stories, and change
that shines even amongst the other planets
of the heavens above, because to me it is
a haven of life and a beacon of light.
life
My Poem “Magic”
I have always been a fast writer…
I have always been a slow reader…
I have always been a fast typer…
I have always been a slow listener…
I have always been able to see, to hear,
to feel the sound and the rhythm of words
and be spellbound by their ability
to make sense of the world,
while being aware and fascinated
by the fact that each word
has their own story to tell of their origin…
I have always been curious about
how a word can come to mean
so much to so many -
even now, I am wondering:
What was the first word?
Who invented the first word?
When, where, and why
was the first word uttered?
What did the first word mean?
And, after it was first used,
was the first word used repeatedly
and to the extent that it was understood
and considered to be something
that someone generations in the future
would be wondering about?
I wonder - that is what I do…
I wander - that is also something that I do…
I watch, I wait, I weave silent tapestries
of poetry within my mind,
as the world races by…
I welcome the opportunity to be inspired
by whatever angel wishes to sit upon my shoulder
and whisper into my ears -
because I know how intense
and powerful an idea can be,
and I know what can be achieved
and where you can go
if you decide to make a move that you know
will influence the rest of your life.
In my time, I have met wizards…
in my life, I have met witches…
in my memories, I see things
that even now I am still trying to believe…
in my dreams is where and when
I face my fears, and every day I feel compelled
to bring people together
and to be a guide for others to follow -
just as the Messenger God, Hermes,
once instructed me to be one night
in a vision that I still remember so vividly…
in my heart I have always hoped for the best,
and I have always wanted the world to be
whatever those who work hard want it to be -
but my faith in some heroes and some role-models
renowned for their gift to touch humanity
with their artistic abilities
has on occasion been proven to have been misplaced,
and I have had to reexamine, reevaluate,
and revise my opinion on those
who have been exposed as devilish individuals…
I have always been known to be one who -
even when seemingly surrounded by uncertainty -
chooses to find a way out of wherever I find myself,
and I always start by choosing to never panic;
because I know that I always have a secret weapon
that will always keep me from
falling into a void of no return,
and there is no other word for what I know to be possible,
nor another way to describe what lies within me
and a select group of artistic individuals,
other than the ephemeral and overwhelming
sound and sensation that we have all felt
when we have witnessed something
that could only be captured, in a word,
to be nothing other than “magic”.
My Poem “Regeneration”
Who knew that someone could
change so much throughout their life?
Who knew that someone could
go through so much and over time
find the energy that they need
to make it to the other side?
Who knew that there would be no mystery
greater than we are to ourselves?
Who knew that there could be no
question to be answered as illusive
as the one personified in
who we see every day in the mirror,
who never ceases to show us
that we all have layers and depths
that are just waiting to show themselves.
Everything within us, everything around us,
everyone we have known, everyone we will ever meet,
changes and reinvents itself,
over and over again –
at the same time that everything and everyone
follows a pattern of behaviour,
as well as a biological necessity,
to maintain something and someone’s
intended purpose in life…
everything within everyone
began in one state and then over time
adapted to their surroundings and their environment
and became a more diverse and varied
assembly of complexity
and meant to connect to the world
in ways that generation after generation
has had varying periods of awareness of and attention to –
because in times gone by humanity’s
connection with the world and each other
seemed to be more refined,
because our relationship with the natural world
used to be considered just as important to growth
and rejuvenation as starlight.
Every atom of everything and everyone –
from me to you, from every tree to every star –
can all trace their shared lineage
to a momentous event that happened
billions of years ago;
but had the conditions at the beginning of time and space
been ever so slightly different than they were
then everything and everyone
would have turned out differently –
and in other universes and realities
the consequences of what might have been
play out in a myriad of ways,
and the thought that change and choice has been,
and always will, be a factor in determining where
one set of variables will lead to
has always filled me with fascination…
every time each of us think that we
know ourselves and each other
to the nth degree and nothing about us,
nor anyone else, could ever surprise us again,
something, or someone, always reminds us to
never stop questioning our own existence
and the reason why each of us are alive
and able to do what we can do –
because every form of life in this universe,
or any universe, has repeatedly shown
that the longer you live the greater the chance
there is that you will repeatedly go through
a period of self-reflection and self-awareness
that will lead to profound instances
of change and regeneration.
My Poem “The Power of Karma”
There was a time when I used to
worry about the future…
there was a time when I used to
worry about being alone…
there was a time when I used to
worry about being who and what
others wanted me to be…
there was a time when I used to
worry about those people who,
in retrospect, took me for granted
as well as tried to take me for a fool -
but, as times have changed,
as I have lived and I have learned,
I realise now that I am better off
without all those people who only wanted me
because they needed something, or someone,
for a short time, before they cast me aside
for something and someone “better” -
and to those people who left me
and to those whom I have left behind,
I say: thank you, as well as good riddance…
there was a time when I used to
worry that I wasn’t like everybody else I knew -
but now I know and I understand that
I am now who I was always meant to be,
and I never used to fit into
the puzzle of the other people I knew
because I am in a league of my own
and the architect of my own destiny…
there was a time when rising above
and touching the sky was just a dream that I had
and a wish that I wanted to one day achieve,
but now I have touched infinity so many times
and I know that the sky that we see is just the illusion
that we need to make us want to leap beyond
and into the unknown so that we can
begin to grasp our true potential
and our constant connection to something
that wants us to believe in ourselves
and what we can accomplish…
there was a time when I used to
worry that people would continue to
use my good nature against me -
but over the years I have become
more aware of my own self-worth
and I know that no matter what anyone
or anything tries to do to me
I will never give up, I will always fight back,
I will never forget, and I will always remember
the face of everyone I have ever met
and wish unto those who believe that they got away
with hurting me and not being held to account,
one day there will be a time when they will think of me
and regret what they did -
as well as realise that I was one of the best things
that ever happened to them -
while I will continue to believe in
and witness the power of karma.
My Poem “The Write Relationship”
Being a writer is like being in a relationship -
because when a writer writes they always
find themselves creating a connection
with whatever, whomever, and wherever
they are writing about…
being a writer is like feeling as if
you want to open yourself up
to being introduced to and influenced
by people and by things that will
give you the gift of inspiration and insight
into something within you that may have been
waiting for years to be freed and shared with the world…
being a writer is like having a license
and a vehicle to express yourself in such a way
that you can use the language within you
to bring together a confluence
of the fuel of your imagination
and the natural environment of the world around you
and get to experience the immense energy
that is generated, but which is often too
intense and uncontrollable to try and contain…
being a writer is like standing in the dark
and then witnessing an explosion of light
as the sun rises over the horizon
and blesses the world with
colour, detail, beauty depth, and a perspective
that the twilight hours can only dream of
being able to show -
however at night is when a writer can feel
at their most vulnerable and their closest
to discovering the answers to
their own questions of life, the universe, people,
and why things happen the way that they do…
being a writer is like learning how to do something
that you already know how to do
but every time you do it
it feels like the first time,
and by continuing to put in the time
to expose yourself to new opportunities,
new challenges, new ideas, new ways of thinking,
as well as all the ways that have continued
to be practiced and performed to perfection
over and over again, because they feel
natural and intrinsic to the way things
are supposed to be done…
being a writer like looking in the mirror
at your own reflection -
but as well as seeing yourself
you also see and hear things, people, words,
and worlds that feel as if they need to be
seen and heard, because they feel like they are
important and meant to be
manifested in some way…
being a writer is a journey that does not end
but along the way, when you are a writer,
you might find yourself stranded -
as if you are in a boat without paddle
rushing down a river and heading towards
the drop of a waterfall;
and if you are a writer, and you think
that you have lost your sense of direction
as well as your ability to direct your course
to where you want to get to,
the key is to allow yourself to go with the flow
and dive head-first over whatever precipice
and into whatever unknown you may find yourself
upon the edge of and fly, like only you can -
because being a writer is a privilege,
because it is a blessing to be a creator, a conduit,
and a messenger of the wonderment
that can come from having a relationship
that feels effortless, meaningful, and right.
The Return of The Wolf – Chapter Eleven: Return to where it all began
“Return to where it all began”, Chapter Eleven of the audiobook version of The Return of The Wolf by Mark Hastings, which is now available to purchase from Amazon in hardback and as an ebook.
Check out the podcast merch store and get yourself some The Return of The Wolf merchandise from Redbubble: https://www.redbubble.com/i/t-shirt/The-Return-of-The-Wolf-by-MarkThePoet/169315455.IJ6L0
My Poem “The Last Word”
Where would we be without language?
Where would we be without a way to communicate
and share what we want to say?
Where would we be without the ability
to express ourselves?
Where would we be without the means
to learn, to interpret, to understand,
to create, to make, to give something,
or someone, a voice to be heard?
The first word spoken by someone
is always a magical moment worth remembering…
the first time the sound that someone makes
can be understood by someone else
is always wonderful to behold…
the first instance that someone achieves something
is always worth celebrating and recording…
the first thing that someone thinks about
and reaches for after they awaken
speaks volumes about what matters to them
and what they treasure as preciously as gold.
Some people love to meet and talk to new people,
because it gives them an opportunity
to engage with someone on a personal level,
and also to make a connection
that they always feel empowered by…
some people find it hard to speak and to be heard,
because for some reason something within them
always tells them to stay quiet
and not call too much attention to themselves -
while those on the opposite end of the spectrum
are always looking for an opportunity
to get their point across
and to get their own way of thinking
and doing things recognized by others as
the most valuable and important.
Everybody always has someone
who they respect and return to
and could listen to whatever they said
for hours on end because they are such
an amazing and entrancing source of knowledge,
information, energy, and joy -
but who would never admit to being
amongst the wisest of individuals in the world…
some people are generally interested in all aspects
and in all the multiple colours and shades of life -
while some people only really care about
what they think is relevant;
some people are generous in so many ways
and they like to give others exactly
what they can see that they need,
including: their time, their attention,
as well as the space to make the first move
in confiding a long and deeply held truth -
while there are those people who are unwilling to
accommodate the other side of a story
and will not give up on their own narrative
and opinion of something even after being presented with facts and evidence to the contrary;
however, there are always those people
who always like to be the centre of attention -
who not only have to have the first word in every conversation,
but also the last word as well.
My Poem “Chapter and Verse”
If only the truth could be known about every mystery…
if only every side of an argument could be
made and proven equally…
if only everyone could know
what someone else is going through…
if only the right words can be found,
at the right time, to be able to express
what can be hard to say about why things happened
the way that they happened
and what the consequences of them
continue to mean to you.
Some people are just better at doing certain things,
some people are just better at remembering certain details,
some people are just better at explaining
the reason why the pieces of a puzzle
all fit together and create a certain image,
some people are just better at making sense of the world
and coming up with a solution to solve
multiple problems all at once -
and then there are those people who
claim they are not special in the slightest,
but who can recite great depths of detail
and trivia about a specific passion of theirs
that they could talk about for hours on end.
For some people, it doesn’t take much to make them happy…
for some people, they don’t need to know
what is going on with anything or anyone else
other than those in their inner circle of family and friends…
for some people, it wouldn’t matter if they were told
that we had been visited by multiple time-travellers,
by countless dimensional-tourists,
by an untold number of intergalactic
extraterrestrial species from many different worlds,
because some people try to focus only on
what they know for certain
and the reality of what is right in front of them…
for some people, actions matter more than words;
when it comes to who we are, what we are,
what we know, what we do, what we have done,
where we have been, and who and what we love,
I believe that only each of us
can give an honest opinion on
what code we choose to live by
and how we justify the actions that we take -
because we are the only one who truly knows ourselves
and we are the only one
who can explain the reason for the steps
that we have taken upon the path of our lives,
from our perspective,
chapter and verse.
My Poem “Generation after generation”
Every year, every month, every week,
every day, I proceed forward
at the same time that I reflect back upon my life -
including the things that I have done,
the experiences that I have had,
and, most importantly, the people whom I have known -
and time and time again I am staggered by
the how much I, and the world around me,
has changed, and I also wonder how
and why I am still here and still doing what I have
been doing for as long as I can remember…
there must be a reason, there has to be an explanation,
there must be an answer to why things happened
and happen the way that they always have, and always will -
that is what I tell myself, and I have been telling myself,
for years, since I came to the realisation
that I have a purpose beyond comprehension…
as the tidal waves of the tsunami of change -
often caused by an unseen, and yet powerful,
reality explosive influence spread and engulf us all,
we are given a choice because of which we must
immediately reach within ourselves
a response, a decision, as well as solution
to the situation that we must face,
and sometimes the most important thing to do
in such a situation is to simply take a breath
and go with the first instinct that comes afterwards.
Everyone, everywhere, seeks guidance
every time everything seems to be going
not as they expected and envisioned it would -
because confusion and chaos is always waiting in the wings
to consume us with fear, anxiety, pain, anger,
and drag us down into a darkness of our own making…
within darkness there will always be light -
even if that light is only but an echo and an afterimage -
and where there is light there is hope,
where there is light there is life,
and where there is the potential for finding
that which you have been unable to obtain,
it is essential to understand that sometimes
we always must journey into the unknown
and follow the path of our own destiny;
and sometimes it is only the fleeting gift of time
that we get to realise and receive the best insight
there could ever be of why what we do matters
and how what we believe and feel
can impact us and others around us,
as well as far away, and far into the future -
because we are all connected
and travelling together through time,
and each of us, everywhere, every minute,
every hour, every day, every month, every year,
are all leaping from one reality of possibilities to another -
and that thought, to me, is what makes life
worth living, embracing, continuing,
promising, and maintaining,
generation after generation.
My Poem “Every Story Ever Told”
Every story ever told,
published within every book
ever written about the life of someone,
there are always things that people want to know,
there are always things that people want to find,
there are always secrets that people want to uncover,
there are always questions that people want answers to;
however, not everything can be known about everyone -
and, as the saying goes:
“History is written by the victors”,
and of course “to the victor go the spoils”…
every story ever told isn’t always a true
and completely accurate portrayal
of what actually happened
where, when, why, how, and to whom…
every story ever told has had its share of reinterpretation -
which is normal, and especially when you are talking about
a story concerning a person, a place,
and a time a long time ago…
every story ever told has always been
a one sided narrative of certain events and people -
because once a story has been told,
and it is ultimately retold to others,
and perhaps even translated
into a completely different language,
when it is read or heard once again
something will always be left behind -
perhaps something fundamental in deciding
the true meaning of the story in question…
every story ever told originates
from a universal source of inspiration -
however just because the source of something
may be the same that does not mean that
the end result of something that comes
as a result of the same spark as something else
will always appear similar;
in fact, that is why the likelihood
of a multiverse of infinite possibilities
all existing and playing out in parallel to one another
is so intriguing and exciting
and may be proof of such a concept
that things can turn out differently
if different choices are made
by different versions of ourselves
when faced with the same situation…
every story ever told has a hidden meaning
and a hidden story within that will only
show itself after the same story is repeatedly enjoyed
and after a period of time in between -
because time, space, and our own individual
lives and experiences are always a factor
in how a particular story impacts upon us…
every story ever told -
from one set within a world of science-fiction
to one set in the past and involving
characters who live a life of privilege,
from a love story to one that is about
people trying to make a new life in a new world -
is all about relationships and about
the vastly different ways that people
are capable of treating one another,
as well as about how the actions of people
can affect the lives and the intentions
of those around them…
every story ever told is a testament
to humanities inner-most understanding
of the importance of sharing knowledge and information
to help in the development of our relationship
with one another as well as with nature
and the rest of the universe…
every story ever told are not all to be found
if you were to physically visit a library,
or if you were search on the internet,
because some stories have literally
been burned from history
and all that is left of them now
are fragments of what they were
and who and what they were about -
which is why I believe we should all strive
to do our best to preserve the memory
of everything and everyone for future generations
in every way that we can
so that the world of tomorrow will always know
what past versions of ourselves wanted
passed down to those who followed them
so that humanity would never forget
the messages of consciousness
encoded within every word
of every story ever told.
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