Falling off the world,
no bad thing.
Either from letting go,
or dislodged
by a stray rock,
from who knows where.

Time to float
deep in the nothingness,
and simply watch
the beautiful earth,
fly madly on,
back towards the sun.

And as that great fertile rock,
disappears
into the brightness,
to look again
at what remains.

To see a universe full,
of light, movement
and mystery.
And recapture,
a long forgotten feeling,
that where we’re from
spans much further
than where we arrived.

And stay there,
peaceful
and enraptured.

Before gravity
takes hold once more,
dragging us back
to where we began,
aware that we both do
and do not
belong.

(Poem from Brushstrokes – thoughts, poems and reflections on having had a small stroke at 34)