A stumble into remnants of
a lost understanding of the world
permits friendships rekindled,
love reunited. But it was not
the same that was felt before.
Friends had become but
foreign strangers; and stranger still
were the friendly strangers
of new. All things do not heal
with time, but everything changes
as the sun rises and falls.
Just the haunting of ‘once were”s
and ‘never again”s are left
in the chapel. Tomorrow has come.
The melting of time is a reality of now and never.
Let tomorrow always come, and memories last forever.

© Blake Leitch June 27, 2012

Left, right, forward and back,
with the thoughts of yesterday
and philosophies gone by
at the head of now’s mind.
On the other hand, whichever
of the countless hands it
seems to be, it seems to me
that tomorrow has arrived.
Heat below rises; the chill of
a winterless winter night
leave the only worthy tools I own
in a sad and hopeless state.
It’s a paradoxical world.
It’s a series of colliding lives.
Whatever the madness may be,
it is a sensibly random collision of beauty.

© Blake Leitch May 12, 2012

Visionless art
in a world of sight,
a world known best
in the heart of the blind.

What we see is knowledge,
but feelings are forgotten.

The ways of the world
are beyond understanding.
The ways of out there
are beyond knowledge.

What we see is knowledge,
but feelings are forgotten?

We narrow our lines
to left, right, and centre.
So what of the lines
that can not be seen?

What we know is knowledge,
but knowledge is worth nothing.

Three hundred and sixty
degrees of sound, unlimited
dimensions of touch and taste.
To feel and to be are real.

What we are is everything and
everything we are is only in one.

© Blake Leitch May 8, 2012

Life has been a monumental event
of faces and words. With these
faces and words come the
expectations of what is called a right.

It seems that too many people
have too many rights, for too many
people lose their rights, or
never truly have them to begin with.

Life has been an interesting event
of faces and words. With these
faces and words come many more
faces and words to fill the emptiness.

It seems the emptiness is never
truly filled, for when the faces
need vision, when the words need
hearing, it is the answer of emptiness.

Life has been… an event.
Simply faces and words.
Just exactly what is it
that these faces and words bring?

The faces are faceless disguise
for the empty to enter and leave.
The words are lies of life and love,
false hope for false expectation.

© Blake Leitch April 14, 2012

Looking through the levels of
reflective reality,
I see a number of similar worlds
all folded in a window.

I see the curtains of here and now
as before me makes most sense,
but when I see behind the curtains,
that’s where the true beauty lies.

First I see a man who’s
staring back my way. Logic says
this man is me, but I am here,
not there. Who am I?

Next I see reflection behind
the curtains of reality.
The reflections? Dark and black; an
unknown path leading to an unknown arena.

Is this what is before me?
Is this what has been?
Is this darkness evil in my wake,
or is it unknown joy to be found?

Last, I see through the window of reflection
to another reality. Through and past
reflection, there is simple beauty. It is
a scene of the unknown, but I know all the same.

© Blake Leitch April 8, 2012

Formation of nations,
The waging of wars,
The world’s nov’l narration
Or the artist’s score.
The power of harm’ny
To lift a lost life,
Or power of hatred
That twists like a knife.
They made what we became,
Made us who we are.
Our lives, on them we blame.
On them, our lives craft.
__They are our gods, moments be damned.
__They lead us, hell-bound, by the hand.

© Blake Leitch January 31, 2013

I was once a believer
in the things I could not see,
and I have no regret
for everything that has been.

But a problem with the world
of putting hope in the unknown
is that everything different
is seen to be wrong.

It made sense, if belief is right
then everything else must
be wrong, but if you don’t know all,
your choice can not be just.

Tall walls and thick windows
so that the world can not enter;
in a life of of the celestial,
belief must be the centre.

At the pulpit it is said
that the world is full of sin.
We must close our ears to the outside
so we can’t “hear the merry din”.

I will not lie, the world certainly is
full of evil and hate,
but this is not all the world
offers on her plate.

There are many weird and wonderful
things to which the earth plays as host.
And even those with little
may claim to have the most.

Who knows? Maybe religion’s right?
But I won’t close my eyes
to the people and places,
to the incredible of life.

© Blake Leitch April 6, 2012