The Head is a circle, it’s a box.

It’s a wagon wheel driven with endless talks.

Space, time, actions;

Thoughts, emotions, and reactions;

Cluster, fuse, collide and burn…

Empty art, hardworking money, passionate labour;

Trusted love, betrayed trust;

Faraway present, immediate future;

Torn away words, jumbled papers;

Papers, scissors, rocks; rocks, papers, scissors,

Options of illusions, choices of charades;

Money, man, monkey, man, money, monkey…??

Who ARE I?

YOU IS a box, closed and contained and pushed to a side.

You is a picture, defined and painted.

You is printed, inked, fixed and unchangeable…

But who ARE I?

I, the space in the circle, the vastness undefined,

Voices of potential, ideas with voices,

Forever unique.

I, the ocean and you, a drop.

I, judgemental, selfish, arrogant and self-centered.

You, the one judged, inconsequential, battered and bruised.

Nothing is as it should be.

You and I should be the same.

You and I are the same.

We don’t look the same but we are.

We don’t feel the same but we should.

There are always things that connect us if, let them, we would.

But there is no I, no you, no us, nothing and none.

There is just the Head.

The Head is just a circle with no centre or circumference.

It is a box beaten out of shape.

It is just a Head…that rules the rest…