GloMag GloMagMay2019 - Page 117

where my steps become new imprints in this earthly confluence of mankind and nature existing side by side – Both in steady decline despite renewed efforts to sustain, preserve, protect, renew or regenerate, so I walk the same as the rest, hoping someone will know my name or even offer a warm smile to know I exist... The Taste of Dust – Despite my expected joyful exterior I blame myself for my chosen moments of uncontrollable melancholy born from social even religious guilt grown from accusatory sour sermons spoken by appointment mouthpieces who themselves transfer their own fears onto willing ears, not realising how their fiery words maim, deplete and delete our self-worth despite the forgiveness of our earthly sins so instead of peaceful dreams I sometimes experience the taste of dust during my nightly dream sequence canvass, where my preferred colour palette drips into nothingness and once again I pray that someone will know my name – 117