What is life but a book to read from both sides,
from either end, from all there is to see here
below the constant clouds of consideration,
from far on high where the clouds are carpet
and the stars as close to perfection as we can get,
for midway through this meander of noise
and nonsense, of love and what is left in its place
when it has parted, I am no closer to the correct
question as I am to the unachievable answer.
What is love but a sunlight seen out of season,
a breath to better us when there is no air,
a rainstorm when all we can see is desert dust
sweeping over the highway where our hope
is headed while are we are bound, barely,
to faithful, to fearless, to ferocious, as we falter,
fail and fall and rise again, better for the bruises,
ready for the next round, prepared to bleed out
our lives along this road we are rocking. And still…
I can drink another case of you,
and you, and you, and you, and you…
What is life? What is love?
What is the point in asking?
We are here… happy, hurt, healing.
We have cut through the clouds
and reached the other side…
What more is there to fear?
All words and photographs by Damien B Donnelly
From my Joni Mitchell inspired series of poems from a few years back.