Look to samphire skies
Where nature’s stations form
Where playful dusk twists sun
And stars begin to turn.
Gaze on, gaze on
Where nations share the show
Where children learn to muse
With horizon twine and flow.
Drink-in the twilight breach
Where souls run to rivered night
Feel winds that rest and contemplate
Then breathe what we all know.
No-one owns the sky.
Who
are we
to pre-suppose
to know that we are those
that shine with special glow.
We are merely they,
that follow normal ways
asking questions as we go
of whom and what we want to be.
And what is this we wonder now?
Who the hell,
are we.
Let’s get drunk
and **** like monkeys!
Let’s roll around awhile
and wail like midnight dogs
intoxicated by our own smell.
Let’s be the untied beasts
of strange instinct within -
boundless and carnal,
without culture or regard
for nothing less than our release.
And after, we can lie together
and sniggle like embarrassed mice,
laughing at how very silly
all the other animals
have been.