Kirstie Sivapalan
Tuesday in November It didn't rain. The line between cold and hot, lonely and mocked, was paved over without a sound. It was a Tuesday. It was a clear sunny day - just over four degrees - when the ozone layer dislocated its joints and stretched into oblivion. It's tireless work ignored, without tears; the… Continue reading No more time to change
Her temper had finally cooled. The pools of molten lava lay without structure or form in her belly. Now she could travel deep within and create. With each thought, each feeling, each dream, new structures took shape. She wondered about whether there were any of her kind out there, she dreamed of love and companionship,… Continue reading Her First Children
Normally I am Little Miss Hopeful, relentlessly optimistic about humanity and our future. Some days, days like the day I wrote the first "movement" of this poem, drops of despair and confusion trickle through and for a while it becomes that much harder to find the light. I wrote Wake after reading my morning news,… Continue reading Wake
Today was a day to reconnect with nature. In London this usually involves going to one of the great city parks, in my case, Regent's Park. Thanks to my recent Mindfulness eductation I enjoyed some mindful time taking in the vast varieties of luscious green, the vivid rainbow colours of the flowers and the eccentric… Continue reading Her message to the City
As i walked up the streets of Islington towards Angel today, a street i've walked up a fair few times since living in London, it really felt I was looking at things with new eyes. Obviously observing the various elements of London in the sun does make a difference but still, it deeply felt so… Continue reading Sight unseen
I visited my shop today. On the etheric plane. Today was the first day of the year I've spent completely on my own. At first I was out of the rhythm of it after having my other half with me, and the company of other special souls, for the last two weeks. I woke up,… Continue reading Soft tingles, warm whispers
Writing and M.E. 