Poetry | Being Is The Centre

You are the centre of the chaos,

The mid point of the great ebb and flow of things,

The morning hail shadow crossing the bay,

The edge of light on distant hills,

You are the tripping child,

The sleek twist of a rugby ball,

Feel inside your rising tide,

Beside, sure, the perfect balcony

On their fine white seafront house,

But see too the diving boards,

You are the frozen blue railings,

You are, and are holding, all this,

You hold the lone walker on the pier,

The one that stops to watch

The fishing boat you almost missed,

As you grasped distant hills,

Hills ready for sun-crisp change behind

Soaring birds in this second’s music,

What bliss in the sweetness of being,

In your sweeping radius,

In the possibilities of your love.