Society is sick

Time melts, stalls, blinks, and flashes
I am drawn to your soul
Magnetic and energising.

Society is sick -

It lost a tactile sense.

Touch is now discomfort 

Empathy withers away with comfort

Fear of viral connection -

Does not drive this sickness

It is rooted in individuality

Stripped of community -

Driven by insecurity,

Starved, longing souls remain.

I am drawn to your ease

The warmth of your way

The sense of rhythmic beating.

Society is sick -

It lost a sense of being

Obsessed with the cult of appearance

Awkward eyes meet - a moment

Then quick downcast,

A smile to a fellow human

Becomes a shameful thing.

This sense of being -

Stripped of human connection

Listless, unengaged eyes remain.

A Dry Season Rupununi Day

Slow, quickening brightness Damp, sweet dew dripping. Aerial orchestra as the sky yawns - Yellow, reaching through blue Blending light with earth colours. Blazing fury as time stands still Shaded conversations and gentle sips Cool breeze, like heaven's blessings The hum of heat's heartbeat Blending hazy rhythms of hammock swings. Silky silence settles On Rupununi sunsets Sun-kissed golden grass In that magic hour - Blending beauty and possibility. Slow, steady breeze Whispering through trees, Ruffling thatched roofs Promising a blanket of night Blending twinkling magic on black canvas