Can you ever stop your heart leaping up, painting right into the corners of a future not here?
That may never be.
Could never be.
Yet the heart has already vanished over a golden horizon –
titles up, audience jump to their feet
applauding the textured script, the wonder of realised vision.
Except nothing,
not one beat of its drum,
has yet been heard.
No, our heart casts off every nay, throws its head back to gaze straight into the sun
to live the lifetimes of the forgotten and denied.
And nothing –
no structure,
no creature,
no choice,
can force it still.
Writing and M.E. 