For here is forever

by justme 

Human man thinks of time
Of eight o’clock an hour from nine
The sixty minutes in between
pass him by, they’re never seen

Through laugh and tears he tears it down
Yet many seconds are never found
Always the future is in this mans mind
That it may be, so much more kind
than the moment mind calls to heart
the memory from which he will not part.

And all the while, time slips away
And man he has nothing, nothing to say.
For time is free and won’t hold still
No man has stopped, no man can kill.

Yet within the space of this thing called time.
Lies a truth for you and for all mankind.
All that exists existed before there was time
A beautiful space, a beautiful rhyme.

You will find it between the measures of time
In the gaps of the seconds filled by the blind.
It lies in the stillness and purity of heart
It knows not the end it knows not the start.

It is aware of the constant the forever in you
It knows not the lack it knows not the do.
Just close your eyes and lay down your fear
For here is forever
and time never
lived here ∞

Credits: poem © justme; Image © CatrinPhoto; All rights reserved


A rose from your garden

Enjoy Catrin’s Meditation…

Always there

This quote is part of the poem ” The Moon” by justme.

I can see

by justme 

I stood before the ridging waves
falling down then rising up, rolling forward effortlessly.
Feet lowered in sinking sand as tiny tickles spread my toes
Foaming white lusciousness, popped and fizzled
Tiny objects pushed forward then pulled back
Salt upon my lips left behind by a soft hidden breeze.
Always sun upon my face.

No man could plan this scene
No man could create the sand, the sparkling water,the taste of salt.
Not even one grain of sand can he create.
Yet it is everywhere.
Infinite intelligence waved the wand
From some place else it did conceive
For now, I can but look, and see myself.
Silent joy as I am part of this picture.This scene.
Where else shall I look that I might believe?
What else did I miss before me?
Through these eyes of light I now perceive
My god, my god, look my friends.
I can see !

Credits: poem © justme; Images © Catrinphoto; All rights reserved



Misty white flotilla floats the sky
Throbbing sun make dandelions heads lilt, while  their seeds await a gusty cry
Or a passing child, in whose blowing wish,
both futures lie.
Startled starlings sweep and rush and prance
with blackened silhouetted bodies, they dive and kick their dance.

Sweeping, glaring, transcendence hums,
From nowhere.
From somewhere.
Resistance soon,
Skinny slowing streams, remain from once upon a flood
Sucked and bled and drank and fed
The earths body
it too, needs it’s own life blood.
While shiny slimy beady eye frogs, make footprints
in the drying skinning mud.

Stone still hares, still can’t hide their musty mess
From a daylight reluctant, fox’s, stuck up nose, which points progress.
Golden nectar drips the glut of hungry bees
from pink and purple thistles with thorny hairy knees
which holds no barrier, or lock against the floating tender touch
of magnificent skippers and swallowtails as they probe and lick and suck.

A picture painting never will complete.
From soaring eagle to dormouse tiny feet.
No mans invention or false progress will ever create or see.
The glorious summer day available
For us and them,
to you,
from justme.

Credits: © cmc; All rights reserved

The Wind

By justme

Silence and stillness fills the air
The things of earth, prepare.
Expectancy the hidden chant as bombing single drops of cloud
Signals and lays the path like a blackened, darkening shroud.
Enveloping the land like an umbrella shading the sun.
Day becomes night, no escape the moment,
the wind it shall come.

Stampeding howl roars through resistant fighting trees
Which bend like the archers bow before it frees,
Yet long for a prouder straighter stance do they.
Yet like the worshipped before their idol, they humbly pray,
in respect of a greater, more powerful one,
than they.

Shivering, flickering leaves rattle and quiver in it’s ferocious wake.
Their tiny stems grip their stronger brother branch, and quake.
He shudders, whips and bends but holds firm the master trunk.
Who’s very sturdiness and resistance, could leave them all defunct.

Some leaves succumb the battering remorseless thrash
and go hurtling and swirling and diving to finally, inevitably, crash
and await tomorrow a rotting silent death.
In rumps and stench of their withering, soggy, brothers breath,
Tempting the sliming worms to draw them to a darkened eerie place, far from the elevated godly heights where they danced a  happy song,
with grace.

Others move and twist and turn upon the winds request
They fight that the sun tomorrow may shine once again and heat their gorging face, they fight that they may live, to be their best.
They fight so they might give.
It is a futile fight,
The fight to live.

For all shall take and all shall give, as all shall return that which has been taken, that they might live.
And to the earth, the ground, the dirt, shall all things be drawn,
To wait a moments breath,
until  the moment of a new day, a brighter,
better dawn
When all things shall once more,

live again.

Credits: Poem © justme; Image © Catrinphoto


“Oh sweet flower, sweet flowing flower
The bee he searches for your golden juice
Through the master’s own pulled strings, and so many hidden things,
You’r the best that perfect ever could produce”

This quote is taken from the poem “Beautiful Flower” by justme. It is also available as a Folding Card to print and enjoy.

Credits: poem © justme; Image: CatrinPhoto: All rights reserved

Left to ourselves

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Photos and video by Catrin

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