The table sat in the centre of the room, bathed in a cone of soft light that faded to complete darkness less than a metre from the table's edge. The division between light and dark was so complete, the only sense of how big the room actually was, came as you entered and walked from the door to your seat.

When a deal of such magnitude was on the cards, Cole always used his influence to ensure the room was prepared this way, so as to avoid any distraction from the matter at hand. His influence had prevailed again, and the room, table, and lighting were ideal.

Cole sat silently in the far corner of the room opposite the door, and in total shadow, he waited like a predator setting a trap. The others would be arriving soon, and he wanted to assess them as they came in individually, and collectively. To get what he wanted in his world, he needed to understand his adversaries fully. Cole toyed with the unlit cigarette in his lips as he waited. Everybody attending had earned their reputations the hard way, and he held due respect for each of them. You could only lead in this business from the front; there was nowhere to hide.

The door opened, and Cole saw a silhouette in the framed rectangle of Light. Broad shoulders and tall, creating a diamond shape with the elbows as the hands were tucked in the pockets. The figure then disappeared into the darkness, before emerging surreally into the pool of tight around the table, and Cole's suspicions were confirmed, it was Larry Gordon. `East Coast’, as he was better known, was over 6ft and no stranger to the gym, he had a shock of blonde hair and blue eyes that always seemed to smile, even when his mouth didn't. Tailored tight trousers and a silk shirt that looked sprayed on. He casually took his seat and reclined with arms folded and head back, as if meditating. ‘Cool’, thought Cole, or at Least that's what you're representing, but Cole knew he was not actually feeling so relaxed, as Cole had been watching his eyes scanning the name cards, and giving tell-tale signs of concern or otherwise as he identified each one.

Cole mentally Logged ‘East Coast's’ reactions and what they told him. If he was going to get what he wanted here today, he needed to guide the proceedings carefully to his conclusion, not theirs. Knowing their strengths, weaknesses, and fears, was the key. Cole remained very still and went through the same process with each arrival. Eric ‘Lightening’ Pearson, loped in next, with the gangly gait of a teenager that couldn't get used to his changing body, and quick darting observations akin to watching a Meerkat checking for danger. Then came Gary ‘Crimson’ Tunney. ‘Crimson’, because it reflected the colour of the bruises he was known to leave on anyone that got in his way. His Large muscular body swallowed the chair as he sat down, just as his large Asian features flowed into a neck the same width as his head, which was attempting to engulf his shirt collar. Some of his muscle had run to fat over the last few years, and although nobody ever mentioned it to him, Cole could see that ‘Crimson’ knew things had changed, and that would give Cole an edge. Finally, Tony Collinary, a.k.a. ‘Sweet’, the complete antithesis of what he actually was. Small, wiry, and very pale, with thinning hair and a face that faintly resembled a butch Bette Middler, completed the table, leaving just one seat; Cole's.

After analysing them for a few minutes more - in particular; the way they reacted to Cole's empty chair, which spoke volumes about what they thought of him - it was time for him to make his presence known. With one deliberate smooth move, Cole flicked open his lighter and produced a dancing flame that he directed to the tip of his waiting cigarette. Conversation stopped, and all eyes turned towards the hovering flame, to see Cole's, confident and lived-in face appear in the soft orange glow. Light danced over his clean shaven olive skin and dark swept back hair, Just catching the edge of the silk bow tie, that completed his dress suit and fifties film star look he created for such meetings.

Cole killed the flame, leaving only the residue of his face on their retinas and the glowing end of his cigarette hovering like a strange life form, which their eyes hypnotically followed. "Welcome gentlemen," said Cole, in his deep resonant tone. Rising from his chair and walking slowly out of the shadows, he took his seat with assured fluid movements. His dark unyielding eyes sat in an open friendly face - that gave a hint to his Italian heritage - creating a disconcerting juxtaposition that left people seeking his company, with a desire to resolve the enigma.

"Now we are all here I suggest we make a start, do you agree?" All eyes were on Cole and they nodded their assent. "Very well", said Cole, carefully laying his cigarette in the ornate ashtray to his right, and exercising his fingers like a concert pianist...

"Let's play poker".

by

Iain Merchant

The table sat in the centre of the room, bathed in a cone of soft light that faded to complete darkness less than a metre from the table's edge. The division between light and dark was so complete, the only sense of how big the room actually was, came as you entered and walked from the door to your seat.

When a deal of such magnitude was on the cards, Cole always used his influence to ensure the room was prepared this way, so as to avoid any distraction from the matter at hand. His influence had prevailed again, and the room, table, and lighting were ideal.

Cole sat silently in the far corner of the room opposite the door, and in total shadow, he waited like a predator setting a trap. The others would be arriving soon, and he wanted to assess them as they came in individually, and collectively. To get what he wanted in his world, he needed to understand his adversaries fully. Cole toyed with the unlit cigarette in his lips as he waited. Everybody attending had earned their reputations the hard way, and he held due respect for each of them. You could only lead in this business from the front; there was nowhere to hide.

The door opened, and Cole saw a silhouette in the framed rectangle of Light. Broad shoulders and tall, creating a diamond shape with the elbows as the hands were tucked in the pockets. The figure then disappeared into the darkness, before emerging surreally into the pool of tight around the table, and Cole's suspicions were confirmed, it was Larry Gordon. `East Coast’, as he was better known, was over 6ft and no stranger to the gym, he had a shock of blonde hair and blue eyes that always seemed to smile, even when his mouth didn't. Tailored tight trousers and a silk shirt that looked sprayed on. He casually took his seat and reclined with arms folded and head back, as if meditating. ‘Cool’, thought Cole, or at Least that's what you're representing, but Cole knew he was not actually feeling so relaxed, as Cole had been watching his eyes scanning the name cards, and giving tell-tale signs of concern or otherwise as he identified each one.

Cole mentally Logged ‘East Coast's’ reactions and what they told him. If he was going to get what he wanted here today, he needed to guide the proceedings carefully to his conclusion, not theirs. Knowing their strengths, weaknesses, and fears, was the key. Cole remained very still and went through the same process with each arrival. Eric ‘Lightening’ Pearson, loped in next, with the gangly gait of a teenager that couldn't get used to his changing body, and quick darting observations akin to watching a Meerkat checking for danger. Then came Gary ‘Crimson’ Tunney. ‘Crimson’, because it reflected the colour of the bruises he was known to leave on anyone that got in his way. His Large muscular body swallowed the chair as he sat down, just as his large Asian features flowed into a neck the same width as his head, which was attempting to engulf his shirt collar. Some of his muscle had run to fat over the last few years, and although nobody ever mentioned it to him, Cole could see that ‘Crimson’ knew things had changed, and that would give Cole an edge. Finally, Tony Collinary, a.k.a. ‘Sweet’, the complete antithesis of what he actually was. Small, wiry, and very pale, with thinning hair and a face that faintly resembled a butch Bette Middler, completed the table, leaving just one seat; Cole's.

After analysing them for a few minutes more - in particular; the way they reacted to Cole's empty chair, which spoke volumes about what they thought of him - it was time for him to make his presence known. With one deliberate smooth move, Cole flicked open his lighter and produced a dancing flame that he directed to the tip of his waiting cigarette. Conversation stopped, and all eyes turned towards the hovering flame, to see Cole's, confident and lived-in face appear in the soft orange glow. Light danced over his clean shaven olive skin and dark swept back hair, Just catching the edge of the silk bow tie, that completed his dress suit and fifties film star look he created for such meetings.

Cole killed the flame, leaving only the residue of his face on their retinas and the glowing end of his cigarette hovering like a strange life form, which their eyes hypnotically followed. "Welcome gentlemen," said Cole, in his deep resonant tone. Rising from his chair and walking slowly out of the shadows, he took his seat with assured fluid movements. His dark unyielding eyes sat in an open friendly face - that gave a hint to his Italian heritage - creating a disconcerting juxtaposition that left people seeking his company, with a desire to resolve the enigma.

"Now we are all here I suggest we make a start, do you agree?" All eyes were on Cole and they nodded their assent. "Very well", said Cole, carefully laying his cigarette in the ornate ashtray to his right, and exercising his fingers like a concert pianist...

"Let's play poker".

by 

Iain Merchant

A warning lest ye who travel this way,

are apt to forget things day by day.

Take heed my friend from the message herein,

watch close as you walk for the beast of Kallygryn.

Its breath hot and foul from the bowels of the earth,

its teeth razor sharp, it's jaws a man's girth.

Its cunning; much more than any man's match,

its hunger will let it your life away snatch.

The Kallygryn forest it's home and its lair,

its appetite strong for the pure and the fair.

The sad and forgotten are all just and fair game,

none are protected, not even the crippled or lame.

Through the Kallygryn Shire every human will pass;

Surrounding the forest lie meadows and grass,

but all paths to the beauty are a canopy stride,

and from the beast in the forest there is nowhere to hide.

The dense growth of trees keeps out the light from above.

The only sounds are sudden flight from the pigeon and dove.

But there in the dark you'll feel the heat from its eye,

your legs will be leaden, your throat will be dry.

The beasts victims aren't slaughtered, killed or ate,

they still wander the forest, never to find the gate.

The beast must be faced by all man's kith and kin,

for the beast is in all of us; The beast is pure sin.

So to complete the dark journey through the Kallygryn wood,

stay true the path that you're heart says is good.

For deep in the forest it's never too late,

for the beast to be faced and to walk through the gate.

But once in the meadow amongst sunlight and laughter,

where the pure of this world remain ever after.

Never forget the forest and never the doubt,

for the beast is still watching and the beast can reach out.

This is one piece of body language that is universal, and wherever you see this on the planet, you know that person is having one of those moments in life that will probably be funny later, but at the time is a combination of frustrating, exasperating, WTF and you've gotta be joking!

We all have them don't we, often when we least expect them and always when we least want them. I mean, the guy in the picture above could be feeling like that as a comment on the serious political and military foolishness that this planet seems to be addicted too. Then again, he could just be thinking, shit... I've come out without my clothes again! - who knows.

But for me, I have been having a few of these over the years thanks mainly to my mother, as she often does or says funny things, but all without meaning to be funny, which kind of makes it even more funny, if you know what I mean. She has always been like this for as long as I can remember although now in her nineties and suffering from early onset dementia the frequency has increased somewhat, which I witness all the time because I look after her. She is amazing for her age really, and she still laughs at herself when she realises what she said or did. I can't honestly say that these episodes are even related yet to her Dementia to be honest, because unless they're memory related they just tend to be her own unique brand of logic (I use the term loosely) and her sometimes very odd way of looking at the world.

I decided to share a few of these moments through my blog as a change because I would normally focus on some of the serious problems the World has, or I would choose to write about something that relates to one of my books, but I really wanted to write something a little lighter, and something that could share a smile or a laugh, so here we go.

Today I'm going to share a couple of these head slapping moments from a few years ago when, with my sisters, we had taken my mum into town to do a bit of shopping and grab a bite of lunch - a relatively normal weekend event for many families you'll agree.

After we had been in town for a couple of hours, and conscious of my mum's older legs getting tired, I asked if she fancied a coffee as I pointed to a nice little coffee shop that we were near at the time. Looking across to where I was indicating my mum said. "OK, but not there because you can't sit outside". My sisters and I exchanged knowing glances at this because of her tone of voice, which can be a bit 'sharp' at times, and our eyebrows were duly raised to each other as confirmation of the way she had indicated her choice.

"OK" I said, "No problem, I know where we can go" and set off to lead them all to another nice little coffee shop that always had tables and chairs outside. When we got there I indicated the place to mum and said. "How's this for you mum?" Looking across at the coffee shop mum said "That's more like it" and walked across the road and straight into the coffee shop. My sisters and I looked at each other a little confused, as we were all expecting her to sit at one of the tables outside of course - who wouldn't expect that... I went in after her and said "I thought you wanted to sit outside mum?" "No" she said, taking a seat at one of the tables and added, "But I like to have a choice!" She then simply set about deciding what cake she wanted with her coffee as if nothing had happened. Leaving myself and my sisters looking at each other and trying to get our brains around what had just happened... A normal mental state to find yourself in when you're with my mother, but it's one of those mental states that doesn't improve with practise

That was the first head slap of the day and whilst funny after the event and repeated to others (I'm smiling at it now as I'm typing), at the time and because of the frequency, these moments are actually far less funny that they later become.

We didn't have to wait too long for the second head slap to arrive, for as we left the coffee shop and my sisters asked if there was anything particular mum wanted to get, she announced that she wanted to get a card for June who was in Hospital. Now I am sure you're all aware that mothers across the planet seem to have a common and unique gift for mentioning people to you that you do not know, but doing so in such a way that you feel as if you should know them - know what I mean?

'June', whoever she is, was just such a case in point, and having learned from painful experience, my sisters and I decided that we wouldn't ask for more information at this point. We arrived at the card shop and helped mum find the right area of the shop. I decided to try and help mum and started looking for the sort of cards I know she generally prefers, and I found a beauty. With 'Get Well Soon' on the front, and beautiful words on the inside, I was certain of success as I handed it to her saying. "How about this one mum?" Mum took the card and looked at it carefully inside and out. Then she delivered the biggest verbal head slap of the day in the tone that all mothers can also do, which is talking to you as if you're both stupid and about ten years old.

She said in a loud voice - "She's not ill!" and handed me the card back in disgust.. and added, "I want a card that says 'You're in Hospital'", and with that she set about searching the racks of cards again!

My sisters and I waited outside the card shop and tried to work out how 'June' whoever she was, would indeed get the card mum bought and guessed the odds of the shop having a card that said 'You're in Hospital' in the first place. AS we know that, unless in a coma, most people know that they're in Hospital and indeed are ill...

There have been (and no doubt will be) many such moments and I will share more with you in the future, but I hope this made you smile and brightened up the day for you.

She's a gem bless her.

By the way, to get yourself in the right mental state to experience these head slaps as close to how I feel when they're happening, try reading them whilst listening to the theme music from the old TV series 'The Twilight Zone', as that is where I feel I am when she is doing what she does best. Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-b5aW08ivHU

Wishing you love, light and laughter

Iain Merchant

http://www.iainmerchant.com

The journey of your life, will I hope, be a long and enjoyable one. I hope you will experience love, joy and happiness in great measure, and that you will appreciate the fact that you do. Many people fail to recognise that the truth of who they really are may conflict with some of the people you have surrounded yourself with, and that can seriously impact on your journey.

Communicating effectively with yourself is key to understanding who you are today, and who you want to be tomorrow, so don't deny yourself the opportunities for happiness by failing to properly listen to your own inner voice.Many people have one or more people in their life that are (albeit not intentionally) destructive for their own well-being, but although they know this is true, they fail to actually do anything to change it. Maybe they are being kind and do not want to hurt the others feelings, or maybe they are just too shy to speak up. Whatever the reason, even if it originates from a place of kindness, you are denying yourself your own truth if you do nothing about it.

You are effectively saying 'yes' to the other person, whilst at the same time saying 'no' to you - bad move.

Creating the journey of your life so that you can get as much genuine happiness and joy out of it, requires you to be involved, and will require - from time to time- some sacrifices to be made, and/or some difficult decisions to be taken and carried out... that's just the way it is folks!

We are living in a World that is getting more oppressive, whilst masking that oppression with the illusion of freedom and choice and many people are getting sucked into it with by 'wilful ignorance'. For example; Most people know damn well that the cheap Chicken, Pork or Beef they can buy at the Supermarket or Discount Store, could only possibly be that price if the animals have been farmed in a way that they would find horrific if they actually witnessed it. But does that knowledge stop them buying it - no, not for most people it doesn't - because they push the thought from their mind, and just concentrate on the bargain they just achieved! Turning what should be an awful thought, into a self-promoting one as if they just did something good.

We are all very capable of self-delusion, and without realising it consciously, we are all pretty practised at it also, and not just in the shopping arena, but in almost every aspect of our lives!

The art of being you at your best is when you are not deluding yourself, and when you are sufficiently comfortable in your own skin to both know your truth, and live it.

So, take some time out from your normal routine and really look at where you are and where you're going, and check it really honours who you are. If it does, do everything you can to reinforce it and smile, because you're in the minority. If it's not, take stock and start making those tougher decisions that will benefit you in the long run.

This life can pass far too quickly when you're not looking, so make sure you spend your time doing the things that fulfil you, with the people that truly resonate with who you are. The other things and/or people in your life that clash with the real you - let them go...

Iain Merchant

www.iainmerchant.com

www.facebook.com/iainmerchant

www.iainmerchant.blogspot.com

Carlo Dolmini had a well-earned reputation as a hard man in the family business. Known as 'Hands-on' to his colleagues and 'the wall' to his enemies, Carlo took no shit from anyone, anywhere or anytime.

Yet for all this, there was just one man that could make him feel shaky and uncertain inside and he hated it. That man was sitting just a couple of feet away from him, and sure enough, Carlo felt as if all his confidence had been sucked out, and he sat staring at his clasped hands trying desperately to summon it back and find his voice.

Father Estas sat alongside him and waited patiently for Carlo to speak. He could sense his discomfort, and although the divide between them was palpable, he knew that all he needed to do was wait, and not break the magical power of the silence.

"I don't know where to start" said Carlo, wishing he could be anywhere else right now. "I shouldn't have bothered you in the first place. I don't even know why we're talking about this; I only nipped in to see you because l was passing. I don't even know how we got on to this in the first place?”

"I'm glad you came Carlo, even if it only was because you were passing" said Father Estas, sliding the knife of guilt in for his irregular presence. "And I guess we got onto this subject because it's something that needs to be out between us, rather than unsaid. As for where to start my son, I'd say just start wherever you want and we'll skip the surface in all directions until we find our bearings.”

Carlo smiled to himself at the navigational reference the Father had made. He had always done that and Carlo had absolutely no idea why, it was just one of his quirks. So was being right about what needed to be said, and Carlo knew that, admiring and hating him for it at the same time.

Steepling his fingers, but still not looking up from his hands, Carlo finally found the words. "I was so close to quitting my job and losing everything I've built over the last fifteen years, it was killing me. I've felt as if I was in quicksand for the last few weeks and I wanted to tell you, and I just don't know how much longer I can keep it up! I just didn't know how to tell you Father, sorry".

"You're a man now my son, and trust me, I do know what a lonely place that can be sometimes, so don't apologise for walking your own path, and not

always checking with me for directions. I take it from what you're saying that you've decided to stay with your job have you?" "For the moment yes; I've got everything back under control again now, but it's wearing me out going through this every time!" Carlo slumped back onto the bench as he said this, and Father Estas could see and feel the strain that was building in him.

"You've got no more clients to take out for a while, so why don't you take a break? you've earned it after all. A couple of weeks in the sun with no pressure or appointments will do you good" "Phillip will never go for that." Said Carlo, referring to his boss, who, it seemed, wanted Carlo with him every moment of the day, or at the very least, on call at all times. In truth, the stress was catching up with him and, he knew, it was affecting the quality of his work, and he was pretty sure Phillip knew that too, which only added more stress. "I wish he would give me a break, I really do. I mean, I made the most stupid of mistakes last time, and it nearly cost me everything. I feel as if I'm losing my edge, and l really can't afford to do that!"

Father Estas sensed the worry and fear in every word Carlo said, and felt for him. Using his softest and yet still authoritative voice, he said "Carlo I want you to do something for me. I want you to go home and pack enough for a couple of weeks away, and I want you to do it today ok?" Carlo looked at him, assessing the command and opportunity in his tone. "I will speak to Phillip. You're as good as brothers, and he will listen to me. He will do as I ask. You will get your rest, and these problems will all be behind you."

Carlo went to speak and was stopped by a finger raised to Father Estas's lips,

a knowing smile and a slight shake of the head. "Sshh, no more; Go now and pack Carlo, and go with my love. Come and see me again when you get back, and tell me all about it. Now go."

Father Estas said no more. He sat quietly with his eyes closed and listened to Carlo's footsteps fade into nothing as he left. The silence seemed so final. So, complete.

With that thought he opened the door, and left the confessional, heading for his office at the back of the Church. He lifted the ornate telephone and instructed Phillip as to how long Carlo's break should really last!

The Church and the Cosa Nostra had always been linked in a mutually beneficial desire for control and power. But Father Michael Estas had gone one better than those before him. He had managed to straddle both power bases, creating the perfect cover with the best of the power.

He smiled as he caught sight of himself in the small mirror on the wall. "God does move in mysterious ways! he said to his reflection, as he crossed himself and left the office, heading back to hear some more confessions.

Donavan stood and admired the canopy of tree branches covering the lane ahead. The leaves were shimmering like a rainbow of copper and gold, as the light danced and shimmered its way through autumn’s curtain. Occasionally the sun got through without a filter, reminding him of the fingers of a hand stretching out to gently touch his face and warm his soul. As always, this was how and where Donavan started his exercise routine every day. He had never been a man of god or drawn to any particular belief or faith, but if he were to have a church, he knew this was it, right here. He had the strangest sense that he had somehow been here on the day he was born, and he knew without doubt, that he would choose to be here at the time of his death if he could, and have his ashes spread here afterwards without too much ceremony, that would be just fine with Donovan.

As much as he’d been in the same spot in every kind of weather, today’s warmth and backlit beauty was his favourite. It somehow made him feel charged and full of energy, almost invincible. It was hard to describe in words, but easy to understand in feelings. Just as he had yesterday, and would do tomorrow, Donovan started off at a gentle stroll and, just as every other day, he intended to explore a little farther than before in the time he had available. AS Donovan reached the gnarled old oak that stood like a sentinel at the sharp bend in the Lane, he slowed and lifted his head slightly taking a deep breath in through his nose, and smiled. He could smell her. Every day he tried to conjure up a fancy description of her smell, but it always eluded him. It didn’t matter though, because he knew exactly what it reminded him of. Love and home, and that was the best description in the world to him. He heard her giggle and opened his eyes to see her beautiful eyes and stunning smile peeking at him from behind the tree, and he smiled back from the depths of his soul as they rushed towards each other and into a full embrace.

He wondered at the magic that existed between them after all these years, that they would meet the same way every day when he walked down the lane and never tire of it, just as they would part at the same spot every day on the return journey. Life is so full of magic if you know where to look, he realised. Donovan unfolded himself from the embrace and gently took Lydia’s hand in his own, and they turned the bend and headed down the lane. They didn’t talk too much, although they often looked into each other’s eyes as they walked. Their silence wasn’t for a lack of things to say, it was more of a desire to give space to the rest of the senses, and to bask in the synergy they had between them. When they were together, they truly understood that we all have another person in the world that makes us more than we are alone, if we are fortunate enough to meet them, as Donovan and Lydia knew they had been.

When Donovan held Lydia’s hand on their daily walks, he knew that his heart, soul and mind were home, and importantly, Lydia’s smile told him the same too. So they smiled, and they walked and they let their souls mingle. He would love them to just keep walking and never look back, and one day they intended to do just that. But sadly, not today! Returning to the gnarly old oak, he embraced Lydia tightly and whispered in her ear, “Tomorrow baby, until tomorrow”. Lydia gently stepped out of the embrace, looked at him lovingly and mouthed the word `tomorrow’ through a beautiful smile, and lightly stepped out of site behind the tree and was gone.

He walked back to the spot he started from and turned, taking one last reverent look back down the lane towards the gnarly old oak and feeling the slightest breath of wind on his face, Donovan opened his eyes and smiled.

The prison exercise yard was grey concrete and barbed wire topped fences. The inhabitants funneling their way towards the gate, confirming that today’s hour of access to the sky was over. Whilst this ending bowed the heads of many heading back to their surreal existence behind bars, Donovan stood from his crouched position in the corner of the yard and stretched, then headed back to his cell with his head held high and only one conviction on his mind.

“You may hold my present in your rules and keys, but you will never hold my mind or my soul, and you will never define my future,” He was leaving again tomorrow on his daily exercise, and in just over sixteen months, he would take Lydia’s hand and together they would find out for certain, just where that lane really led, without ever looking back.

A warning lest ye who travel this way,

are apt to forget things day by day.

Take heed my friend from the message herein,

watch close as you walk for the beast of Kallygryn.

Its breath hot and foul from the bowels of the earth,

its teeth razor sharp, its jaws a man's girth.

Its cunning; much more than any man’s match,

its hunger will let it your life away snatch.

The Kallygryn forest its home and its lair,

its appetite strong for the pure and the fair.

The sad and forgotten are all just and fair game,

none are protected, not even the crippled or lame.

Through the Kallygryn Shire every human will pass;

Surrounding the forest lie meadows and grass,

but all paths to the beauty are a canopy stride,

and from the beast in the forest there is no where to hide.

The dense growth of trees keeps out the light from above.

The only sounds are sudden flight from the pigeon and dove.

But there in the dark you’ll feel the heat from its eye,

your legs will be leaden, your throat will be dry.

The beasts victims aren’t slaughtered, killed or ate,

they still wander the forest, never to find the gate.

The beast must be faced by all man's kith and kin,

for the beast is in all of us; The beast is pure sin.

So to complete the dark journey through the Kallygryn wood,

stay true the path that you’re heart says is good.

For deep in the forest it’s never too late,

for the beast to be faced and to walk through the gate.

But once in the meadow amongst sunlight and laughter,

where the pure of this world remain ever after.

Never forget the forest and never the doubt,

for the beast is still watching and the beast can reach out.

Through eagles eye and Swallow's sight

reflect in day, refract at night,

The false horizons built by man,

remnants of devoured land.

Migration south to warmth of sun,

to gather with kin & prepare the young.

To the ancient site picked out with care,

to find the land has been stripped bare.

Humans busy down below,

man and machine move to & fro.

To build the nest's in which man lives,

on the land he takes & no one gives.

Adapt we must just to survive,

like the bee that lives in a structured hive.

Our natural home now ever short, due to the

fight that's lost, yet not been fought.

Adapt we have, through need that's how,

we nest our young in a concrete bough.

But if once we could hear nature’s voice,

what do you think would be her choice.