The scarab beetle rolls the pearl of soul along the shore

Far above the tide

And reaches for the Moon


Melanie, London, 1.4.2007




I want to go Home.

Where is my Home?

My celestial sister knows, and her arrow flies yonder …

But I reach for the Moon and say

“Please don’t leave me alone.”


Bali, 2.1.2012




Hands grasping precious stones

Gold chains bind and hold

Decaying flesh


Beady eyes

Watching motionless

For absent danger


I know what I know

I keep what I keep

A warden of Churches


I shall protect and keep safe

I shall keep out and keep away

I shall wile time away


A hoarder of artefacts

Lost meanings

Don’t touch


I am stranded







Ursula D., London, 2013







The Crab


Some days I stride into adventure,


But caught between tides, I fall back


And fumble among yesterday's treasure:


Lose the trail of crumbs that I track.


And so I search this mind-hoard,


Trip over another false start.


Until I remember my lesson:


That I am not bound by my past.


Sophie Juneau December 31st, 2013







Tides High - Tides Low

Pearls come.  Pearls go.

Taken, grasped, stolen, lost

Comfort me or count the cost


Sunflower, West Sussex, 30.12.2014