“Return to the Beginning” is a poem taken from Mark’s 2025 poetry collection ‘The Storyteller‘ – now available to purchase in hardback and as an ebook from Amazon.
Listen on Apple Podcasts and read a transcript.
return
My Poem “Return to the Beginning”
Life can sometimes be
like being on a fairground ride,
like being on a rollercoaster -
because so much of our time
is spent doing the same things
in a repeating cycle;
however, no matter how much nostalgia
we feel for a time, or for a place, in the past,
if and when we attempt to go backwards
and in reverse then we may only find
heartbreak waiting for us -
especially when we realise that
we can only stay where we used to be
for a short time before returning
to the present, to the now, to who we are,
to the knowledge of what happened, what changed,
and who we have lost along the way.
Returning to the past can be difficult;
returning to the past can be challenging;
returning to the past can be painful;
returning to what was can sometimes
shine a light upon what was pushed
into the shadows of your mind for a reason
that you may have forgotten about;
returning to the path of memory lane
can make you realise where, when, why,
and how things changed for the best,
as well as for the worse.
Life can sometimes feel like a constant uphill struggle;
life can sometimes feel like a Summer’s kiss;
life can sometimes feel like a fever dream;
life can sometimes feel like something is happening
that you can’t control or understand,
but you have to make the best of it;
life can sometimes feel like a constant
storm of emotions and feelings
that you have to overcome;
life can sometimes feel like
it has been a long time coming
since things were simple and made sense.
Returning to the origins of a story;
returning to the muse of inspiration;
returning to the flash that started
the tidal wave of creativity;
returning to the source of rejuvenation;
returning to that which opened doors to other places,
which lead to meeting other people,
in sometimes new, interesting, and unexpected ways,
can remind us of why we are all, mostly,
hopeful of a better world,
and optimistic of what possibilities
the future of tomorrow might bring;
however, though it is nice to find things
and to see things that we haven’t
seen in some time,
and though it is initially good to see
people we may not have been
in the presence of for sometime,
there is always a cost to be paid,
to be taken, and to be made,
if you ever want, if you ever need,
or if you ever feel like you must go back
and return to the beginning.
My Poem ‘The Phoenix’
It was inevitable that it would happen,
it always happens;
it was always going to end and begin again this way;
it was inevitable that I would be burned alive
and come back to life,
because that is the pattern;
it will always be me dying to save myself,
and then rising again from the flames
with the same face, the same name,
the same heart, the same soul,
until it really is my Earth-bound last and final day.
Every time I come back from the dead
I lose nearly everything that I had,
but I do retain every detail of my past lives’ memories;
every time my world crumbles and turns to ash,
I return to the place I know,
the people I love, and the thing that is as a part of me
as I am of it- and that is my notebook and my poetry.
You always think that things will go on forever, until they end;
you always think that people will stay with you, until they leave;
you always think that you will always be someone’s hope,
inspiration, life, love, and best friend;
you always think that you know and have seen everything,
until you learn and you see something that you cannot believe.
My world imploded, and then exploded;
my identity was stripped from me and thrown away;
my life had to crash and then be rebooted;
my past, my present, my future, my horizons,
were all sent into flux, and blown away on the wind,
to be replaced by a blank page, an unknown,
and a feeling of loss and uncertainty.
Where once there was something rich, deep, bright, and hopeful,
there is now nothing to be found;
where once there was fate, destiny, reason,
the answer to everything in the entire universe,
there is now a hole in the shape of something wonderful,
special, and profound.
Night has become day,
day has become night;
everything felt simple,
even when it was vastly complicated in every way-
as long as I kept myself, in part, hidden in the dark
I would always end up turning my face away from the light.
Things ended because I was stupid;
I was ripped apart and burned,
because what happened was too far gone for anyone to fix;
I was everything that I have always hated,
but now I have died, I have been reincarnated,
I have been reconstituted, I have been tested,
I have been regenerated, I have risen again from my own flames,
and I am starting again and fighting my instincts
of continually being the human embodiment
of the mythological bird known as “The Phoenix”.
Mark The Poet 