Guiding Star

Can’t write today –

my pencil’s heavy.

My mind is racing

with the violent ocean storm.

I walk confined

amid the demons,

I hear their

brutal gnash.

With shaking hands

I hold on faintly,

to a reality

not quite so real.

I moments such

of deep desperation,

I search my soul

for help, for hope.

Small baby hands

are holding there

my heavy, tired,

ageing hands.

A smiling face

is always there

to guide me trough

the troubled days. 

I can accept

the days of fluster

and find my way

amid wild seas.

As long as I

have eyes to find her –

my love, my life,

my guiding star.

The Eight Night From Today

Seven days

In seven countries  

Seven times  

I've sold my soul.

Seven times

My seven masters  

Seven nights  

They tore a piece.

Seven parts

My soul is smaller  

Seven parts  

Are still intact.

Seven days

Are running shorter -  

Seven nights will  

Fly by fast.