candy of the soul

wandering star don't let the dust fool you,
it's always the view from afar that sees
spectacle in your mess --

but isn't that what the beauty of life is?

the perspective

from here,
behind a telescope lens

you shimmer
and dazzle sweet sprinkles
the kinds that make candy of the soul

glazed window into the heavens
the lens is specked
with colours unseen

peacock flume, your wispy arms scarlet, crimson
ultra violet waltz,
pink pearl cotton
atmosphere

amid your shakeless pirouette
a green only known as life

what would you be on earth i cannot say
only that
you are what the robins and bees
prefer 

the mystery of what i see

i don’t know if i’m attracted
to the mystery
of what i see
or don’t

but there is something about
the things i know about you
and the beautiful

spaces between those things
like distant stars
that close up blind me
but from a distance
make sense and shapes
and stories

and i’m a dozen little children
robed in fur
whispering in each other’s ears,
guessing and gossiping:

under the spell
of the nightsky
magic.

beauty is

Yesterday there was a beautiful storm. Instead of the dull and usual Vancouver rain, this storm was a dynamic swirling energy. Unlike a smooth, linear progression it traveled like an intense ballet: with delicate control and gentle movement interspersed with cracking thunder and clouds crashing like waves.

There is something to be said about a storm. A beautiful day of sun can give me the biggest grin but a beautiful storm captures my attention like a tug on a rope, pulling me in to see eye to eye — and then to let me back slowly, inch by inch. I imagine that’s what it’s like to be inside of a hurricane. To experience something much larger than you engulf you yet be in its calm.

It must be called the eye of the storm because once inside it, you see the beauty and glory of the storm.