The Winds of Change in the Twilit Hours: A Poem

The winds of change
are blowing a gale,
rattling my old sash window frame,
and a draft is sneaking past
the sleepy door snake
guarding my humble parlour.  

A wayward leaf,
its short life spent,
flutters against the window pane —
a timely reminder that
like most things in this life,
this sojourn, too, shall pass.

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A Subtle Reminder: A Poem

I'm burning sandalwood today,
and its fragrance reminds me
of the subtle realm
ever-present behind – and beyond
the cheap plastic façade
and gossamer-thin veils
we foolishly think of
as civilisation
and “the Real World”.