Dead Poets Live
Published in

Dead Poets Live

Three Weeks in Crete

Photo by Branko Besevic on Unsplash

The sea is my meditation now—
its sounds caught me in my own rhythms
& returned me to the void.
Once again, I am everything I was
fully remembered & restored.
The old sluice gate is gone.

I sat by its ruffled lake
& wandered along its shores
until land & sea merged and I
became oceanic, green & blue
all colours undefined.
There is no self or other
in this watery world.

‘I am an astounding, lucid confusion,’
Rumi said — I fell in love with
my better self when really it isn’t there at all.
Yet my world is not yours.
One day, when the tide comes in
again you may hold my hand.

I will drag you out to sea
where we can both drown, delightedly.
‘My silence sings, my emptiness
is full. You cannot know my world
until you are there.’

Copyright Simon Heathcote

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Simon Heathcote

Simon Heathcote

Psychotherapist writing on the human journey for some; irreverently for others; and poetry for myself; former newspaper editor. Heathcosim@aol.com