Glynis van Rooyen

Writing life

It’s in every moment, happening, real, acutely mundane
The smell of now wafts in from the sea, salt mingling with coffee
A snarl comes from the traffic, calmed by the whirr of the fan
Own time, own thought, feel and grope across the page
I am almost paralysed to plumb the depths
It is here the root of our self, pluck it, choke it out
Sift the love, the hate, the gossamer reality
Like a dream catcher in a gentle breeze
find the hope, write the agony
Snatch life, lived by millions, a second at a time
pulsing in the static of a passerby.

Pulsing in the static of a passerby
snatch life, lived by millions, a second at a time
Find the hope, write the agony, spin a web
like a dream catcher in a gentle breeze
Sift the love, the hate, the gossamer reality
It is here the root of self, pluck it, choke it out
I am almost paralysed to plumb the depths
Own time, own thought, feel and grope across the page
A snarl comes from the traffic, calmed by the whirr of the fan
The smell of now wafts in from the sea, salt mingling with coffee
It’s in every moment, happening, real, acutely mundane.

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