Manifest Me Baby

clouds part, shaped like glacial tunnels,
white light pouring from its beyond,

bestowing a pure glow on the lakefront, on the gentle greenery revealing shades of fall, promising hope next spring.

leap like everything is possible, asks a goddess
take flight through me (believe in miracles, manifest me baby), asks a saint

quit contemplating me (i own mirrors too darling) move inside me now, release your spirits into this

realise your queerness, find your muses and walk, no, run towards them with virility, let the lust for life carry you

into my universe.

no biggie. easy ask. the countryside was a gentle hibernation through the first world's end, the cotswolds haze a welcomed song to tune into.

'had the world been well we would've enjoyed it more, done more, trekked more, lockdown ruined it for us'

... is the type of rationale that would drive us to incessant dissatisfaction,
rotten entitlement for nothing in out control.

alas, planning a future in the great beyond inspired us

painting cityscapes onto our pillows
onto our walls and floors,
bringing them to life, watering every seed to its bloom.

a bursting supernova, a big bang,

Manifest Me Baby

to make of muses friends, of dreams reality, of youth a life worth remembering; lips curved eyes wide

meditating those first leaps
realising they were          everything.