Tucked under her left arm a cornucopia empty of both fruit and dreams wishes

held fast in her right hand an inverted, in truth forevermore mutilated parasol

the commotion of the unrestrained tempest above spells the roughest of nights

the charmed forest’s new arrivals would do well to be mindful and remember

the weather on this hillside domain shifts as abrupt as the plunge of a new born acorn


Eirênê had supposed that spring had already sprung, so glorious a cut grass sunset

she had thought wrongly discovering as she did to her cost winter’s death rattle still

rattled, in the circumstances she succumbed to abort her tranquil twilight saunter

the allure of flawless retreat, to seek sanctuary at the temple of an aged best friend

a time exhausted, yet wise old nameless oak tree, her mentor and long time confidant


It is within his hollowed trunk she takes shelter from the storm, he minds not a jot

she jokes with the old boy, “Time may have dented your good looks, your bark may

have seen better days – and yes I know it’s the woodpeckers not an age thing – but

still there is that watchful, roving eye of yours, old scallywag that you are” adding cheekily

“Tell me then, what’s new, you know, the happenings of night owls and clandestine lovers?”

that this patriarch to the school of fresh saplings chose to keep schtum par for the course

‘no names, no pack drill’ always his rule of thumb, “Just how old are you?” her oft times question

not that he would ever say, his age an indeterminate thing, although the travellers assert

he witnessed ‘born again’ Eve’s first kiss, the conception of Arthur, the birth of the last unicorn

whatever, safe inside the refectory of living timber she awaits his growth rings profound whispers


“Centre universe small child eyes fixate upon a world of drones, clones and catastrophe

where death throw Gods’ hang on for dear life and the deluded devotees still make war

blind to benevolence, deaf to charity’s pleas, yet true to grooming fables as candid biography

it is now that the waters of a thus far lazy secular stratum propagation need breaking in a frenzy

and a commonwealth be born, and for the first time within conscious thinking, truth at last thrives

spreads far and wide, beyond where philanthropic wish trumps ‘return to sender’ me, me, me prayers

only then will ‘good things flourish continually’ and the ‘minds of mortal men need you no more”


“Then my existence is a mere contradiction, and you never existed?” 

He offers no reply, utters not another word


13 thoughts on “OF MAGIC & CONTRADICTION

    1. Those millions who have suffered at the hands of the despotic monsters who would seek to annihilate and/or steal their well-chosen God from their side I will never forget, nor would I ever seek to stop a believer believing, rest assured Paul.
      My only point re atheism’s reluctant, lazy walk into a secular future is that the young ones of the now (well a good number!) seek out knowledge and answers through provable fact, through science as to the meaning of ‘things’ rather than speculate. That said I would always defend the cause of the ‘living by prescribed sound values’ believers under attack.

      1. Brain hurts from writing…how is you brain doing? Can’t understand he washing machine instructions she left me also…they told me everything other than where the blue liquid stuff has to go…she just said ‘put it in the drawer, top left, front’ yet said draw has three little compartments. Which one…I shall lose sleep over this. Yours, Confused, Hellfire Corner!

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