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Tessin

Tessin

 

Here is a place to dream,

To recreate, re-find

Reality.

To make room to play

With all the potentials,

And all the might-have-beens.

 

For here the gulf between reality

And dream

Is so subtle, so diffuse, so pliable,

Spread so clear on the land itself

Like a reflection from the mirror

Of the soul,

That the two co-exist

Quite peacefully together,

And just for a while it seems

That perhaps life too could be so simple,

So possible, so pliable,

So easy to bend and shape

That reality and dream become one.

Morcote

 

 

Light there

Is hazy,

Soft, inviting, warm,

Dreamy - belying the day-to day

Living of mundane daily life

That goes on there

Each day.

 

Reality there is a traffic jam,

Car fumes scenting the air,

Shopping to do,

Money to earn,

Cash to spend.

But the dream,

The dream is so inviting,

So sensuous, so alluring -

The palms flutter their leaves

Against the morning blue,

The cedars point their dark fingers

Towards Heaven,

And bells ring on the gentle breeze:

If we shut our eyes, we're almost there.

Water glints, reeds rustle,

And in the soft silence,

The mountains slowly reveal themselves,

Golden in the morning haze,

Rank on rank,

Stretching away into mystery and obscurity.

No matter we drove through them

Two days ago,

From where I now stand,

They are as mysterious,

Beautiful, unreachable

As Heaven itself.

The bells ring, the water ripples

In the sun.

I am so lost in its allure,

I can scarce remember who I am.

Morning

 

Morning light on the water,

Soft, gentle, sparkling

Here and there

With the promise of heat to come.

The sky, a blue dome,

Chestnut forests enfolding the slopes,

The call of the ducks,

Grebes, coots,

Busy in their own lives.

It is a world wrapped

In morning stillness

Magnified by the lap

Of the quiet waves

On the shore.

Summer

 

Sitting on a stair,

Bathed in evening sunlight.

At my feet

The lakes laps, gentle;

In my eyes,

The bright water

Sparks tears.

Above my head,

A soft, blue dome

Hazy in the evening.

Across the water,

The hills recede in golden mists,

Softened, refined, made gentle.

My nose is tantalized with scents

Of summer -

Smoke, supper, sun-kissed skin,

Ears caressed with sounds that time forgot:

Ducks, far-off bells,

Pans through open windows.

Body and mind so relaxed

I travel back,

All the way to before -

To childhood,

And I savour, so briefly,

A snatch of myself,

Diffused in sparkling rainbows,

Crystal, immediate, unreachable,

Yet undeniable and irresistible.

And I ask - "Who am I?"

So relaxed it's as though

Life's story book is open once again,

Ages blank, waiting to be filled:

Mind, body, heart, open, unspoiled, free.

And I ask again

"Who am I?"

And I wonder what I'll be.

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