I’m flying though time,
drawing on daylight
to the west of me
while in the east
darkness descends,
the light already shadow,
the sun already set
but here, by the heavens,
there is only more and more
light, a day without dusk,
a journey without ending
yet I am not ageless.

I’m flying through time,
drawing on daylight
that rests with me
as west takes east,
courting cotton clouds
that blow through blues,
couriers of careful candy
we cut through curiously
and climb upon cautiously
as altitude tests turbulence
while I know nothing is certain
and I am not ageless.

I’m flying through time, 
gaining hours on hours, 
unending light from the sun
teasing, while the moon
is missing from movement,
I’ve seen sky slide into sea
seamlessly caressing currents,
I’ve seen sinking sands seep
from salt spits and dissolve,
to rise and shine and die,
while I chase the sun
but I am not ageless.

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

Audio available on Soundcloud:


I am airborne,
Life is being lived
Beneath me
Amid the flickering lights,
In the daunting darkness,
Like festive fairies twinkling-
All myth and mystery,
Miles away
Amid mountains
That look like molehills,
Meandering mechanically
In moving motors.

I am now living
In the breath held,
Passing through time,
Pondering possibilities,
Playing ability
Against probability
Wondering where I will rest
One day, that day
When wings ring out
With weariness
And my feet find their land again
And path to plod along.
I know
What lies beneath,
Have seen the suction
Of the cites
And their seduction,
Have seen the wonder
In the wilderness
Where wolves are wild
And winds are free,
But I am ignorant
Of what rests above,
Up there,
Out of reach,
Far from sight
In the darkening deafness,
Beyond the burnt out stars
And all understanding of existence.

I am airborne,
Live is being
Lived out
Beneath me,
Without me,
And I wonder
Are the souls
Who left me
Long ago
Flying above me?


The Value of a Single Word

I am in the air,

Above mountainous clouds

Of candy floss and cotton balls,

Flying between beds

That are not mine,

Sheets bound to frames

And pillows too puffed

To be personal.

I am the single sleeper-


On the right edge of center,

Using just one set

Of towels

Of the two provided,

Opening single slippers

And leaving that other robe

Hanging unused

And yet,

For all it’s

Impersonal touches,

I sleep in these foreign buildings,

In foreign cites,

In foreign lands

I can barely plot on the map,

Akin to sleeping at home

And tonight

I question

The geographical pull

And sentimental value

In the word

We call home

When you live

In this world

All alone.


The Evaporation of the Earth


I am on a plane, again,

Flying over your gardens of green

And heavenly mountains-

Looking more like hollow hills from here,

It appears we are chasing

The last light of day

As East leaves West

Before finally we are pitched

Into an abyss of blackness

As the world disappears

And I wonder

If we are all who are left;

Flying forwards towards a forsaken future,

Gaining only on the remaining hours,

Oblivious to

The Evaporation of the Earth.

I look around to see who will be

Mother, Lover, Brother now,

Who will be friend

And which will be foe.

Who will scream first,

Freak first,

Break first.

Who will see the unseen that I have seen?

Will hunger harm us

Or fuel fade first

As we fly,


And fade

Over an Evaporated Earth.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly