There is this place beyond the window rails
Beyond our daily chores, away from piles of papers
Far from the flickering screen with zeros and ones
A place we call our own, a secret dwelling or a lonely planet
Chasing images that appear on pages, or in a lovely film
Or those that zoom past us, as we stand stranded at a busy crossroad
We build it around us, in tiny fragments, bit at a time
The texture of which resembles the scarlet of a late evening
Or the dampness of those hillside holidays
The cacophony of a messy main street
Or the silence that precedes the morning sun
Light rays or dew drops, screeching horns or quietness
For each of us, our own, this place our heaven on earth
Hidden at times from even our own consciousness
Strangely though, we move in and out
Drifting between realms like gods do
To be there, and here, now and next
But for some of us,
It is to be there, that we are here
Rarely wanting to come back, to live
Oh, but for us, to live is to be there
To breathe is to die to our surroundings
Our bodies remain alive, our mind alive in our own place
Hidden at times from even our own consciousness
There is this place beyond the lives of others, or ours
This is a place where we all belong
So distinct but yet so similar
All at once, and forever
Dannie John
19-Feb-2011
