Say it with Flowers

When words fail to express how much I miss you, and fail to lend me the strength to hold my own onto that ship...

While your being gone has cast our lives into disarray like a tempest unforeseen, bashing us castaways against the harshness of our depleted surroundings, wreak havoc our lives, split open our hearts...

Despite your not being afar for I can feel you around, softly brushing past, hesitant tip-toe, lingering into regretful embrace, gliding up and down the Stairway to Heaven in nocturnal errance...

If only you whisked me along.

Bloomers Flowers & Decor

How I care to imagine living a day without you and still carry it through, whether my life will be whole again despite the hole that you left...

How what mattered yesterday has come to pass and lies at our feet in its irrelevant, insignificant splendour...

And whether I seek to explain to the rest of you here - or not,

I shall never cease to love you.

When words lack a word and words fail your hurt, elude or go astray, laced into the atemporality of the present hurt...

You have to forget the words and forgive them too.

And let flowers do the talking for you.

© Nathalie Hachet Kuntz, 11-Apr-2018

Toxic Love in a Southern Garden

There is a deathly obsession going on in gardens of southern France and elsewhere in the sunkissed regions of Spain, Italy and Greece. No matter how toxic the relationship, the likes of my mum and my unfortunate next-door neighbour will pursue the affair nonetheless, despite the warnings.

'Oleanders', oil on canvas by Vincent van Gogh (1888), via The Met Museum

The affair involves misleading lust for mediterranean flowers of the easy kind: easy come, easy grow, easy show, easy go. A native of the Mediterranean Basin and the Middle East, it was later introduced to the Far East and Central America. Give them a good watering in times of peak Summer heat, they take care of themselves the rest of the time. They even remember to flower year on year in time for Summer and would even do a little dance if they didn't look so conceited. They're a novice gardener's delight, thus can be pruned back, hacked hard and generally grossly mistreated. Still they will manage to summon enough gusto to thrive back to shape within a trimester and reward you for your carelessness with a myriad blossoms.

The Terrace at Méric (Oleanders), oil on canvas by Frédéric Bazille (1867), via WikiArt

Those come out all over in a rash, in shades of pink and white. The blossoms may look prim and proper as you drive by but get off the car and take a closer look: they are messy. They discard leaves and flowers on a whim, like a furry pet sheds hair, and the freshly-shed flowers end up sticking in clumps to the pathways and pavements and garden tables and the sole of your shoe. Maybe Charles Baudelaire spared them a thought when he penned The Flowers of Evil. You might call them pretty if you're my mum or the woman next door but that sort of beauty is lethal: avoid it at all cost!

(pict source)

They look impressive to the easily impressed, but it's all falsely affected to the tune of fakery in a flurry, like soul sisters begonias and petunias. They're a fifties garden fashion throwback that never actually went away - or went anywhere for that matter - passed on from generation to the next like a heirloom. Why? Because - remember - easy come, easy grow, easy show, easy go. Ubiquitous, so they are, especially when originality is unsummoned and garden space needs to be filled, a hedge be hastily erected at a moment's notice: Nerium oleander is the shrub of choice.

Fatal attraction

No surprise to be had: they behave as expected. The plants are easy on the dollar sign too. In their droves, they charm the charmless garden and will even endeavour to hide a multitude of sins like the ugly breeze-block wall they are backing onto or the irregularities of the terrain. They may fool you with their myriad petals and get you to absolve them of their sins. But their aroma shall fool you not with the old sweaty tee pong, yes the soaked-out worn-out garment that should have been thrown in the wash (or best, in the bin) but clocked an extra day instead. Sweaty pong is all there is to get out of that shrub, and if you stand long enough nearby, you may decide the heavy lingering aroma is posh speak for 'putrid'.

Pretty poisonous is the ugly truth!

Call it oleander all your might, it is of ill repute, plaguing life and playing with death, for it is toxic through and through. My next-door neighbour knows it, yet she amorously planted a couple of those next to her plum tree and allows for the branches to get jiggy with it under the midnight sun. And she still won't come to her senses, instead dragging her chaise longue across her patch of land so it stands exactly right under the flimsy shade of her protégés, admiring their pretentious stance from underneath as she lays down. A morbid rehearsal to God's waiting room?

Putting on a show!

My mum built hedges of those in her dreams and now her dreams are coming true. Leave it to her and leave her to it: she'll talk to them and caress their finger-like leaves with maternal care. Care for them to grow big and vigorous and take over her front lawn like a corporate mission statement: bold and boring. She'll refuse to notice the sap seeping out of the branches and scores of ants and white flies glued onto it. My mum taught me as a child about the toxicity of oleander and now she can't have enough of it in her garden's front row. Such a puzzling contradiction!

Where's Tickle gone? To the safety of the nearby bougainvillea!

I don't see birds showing an interest and rare are the butterflies that do so. I don't take an interest either: I actually dislike the plant with a passion and, as a nature lover, this is one strong statement. Tainted love for some, quiet desperation for others!

Five Mantras to Live Your Life By

Life is a bed of roses: beautiful and spiky, delightful and prickly. It throws fireballs at us and teaches us lessons along the way. Up to us to receive the teaching as a learning, or else, repeat mistakes and errors of judgement and go down the wrong path, sabotaging chances. However eventually most of us will mature and develop wisdom through the proverbial school of life (a.k.a. life experience) or school of hard knocks - when life rocks the boat senseless and tests you hard.

Wisdom makes life and lifestages easier to handle and puts things into perspective thanks to the tools we develop (thought process, repartee, extrapolation, problem solving etc.), and the methods we learn - by hook or by crook - on how to deal with new situations, setbacks and adversity under all their manifestations: stress, fear, loss, grief, pain, conflict, etc.

Along the years, I've got into a habit of collating quotes and other pearls of wisdom which resonate with me most, into a Word document. Whenever I feel a little low and in search of a boost or a little guidance - or just for the pleasure of words themselves - I open the file and reach out for them.

My Pinterest board, Unrequited ♥ Love, is an extension of that file, as a collection of quotes and metaphors from prominent artists, authors, thinkers, politicians, as well as from personalities away from the public eye. You may want to refer to my board for further inspo.

Right now, check out my five steadies for a little positive reinforcement

William Blake's Animal Manifesto

A few days ago, I rediscovered a famous poem by Romantic English poet William Blake (1757-1827), and I was instantly struck by the modernity and vivacity of its author and the modernism of its tone, themes and values. The piece might well have been written today and thus shatters any preconceptions one may hold against poetry that is two centuries old. Now is an invitation to rediscover the great poet, and you might surprise yourself at relishing in the potence of his words and delighting in the message they behold.

Dhara the baby Indian elephant, rescued in July 2012 by IFAW, was a casualty of monsoon season in Assam. I sponsored her vet fees, only to be informed 2 weeks later that she had sadly not survived her ordeal.

The poem is called 'Auguries of Innocence', the full version of which (one undivided sequence of 132 aphoristic lines) is a click away at Poetry Foundation. The original manuscript may be viewed at The William Blake Archive. I concede that the poem title might not strike a chord right off the bat, but its exact first four lines somewhat will: -

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour

The piece is assumed to have been written in 1803, yet was not published until decades after Blake's death, in 1863. It starts off as an introduction of sorts, a reflection of the wider cosmos into the finite and defined that is a grain of sand and a flower, then themselves imploded into an inner expansion and extension of cosmos into micro-cosmos, and the correlation between the two.

Luna was saved from the dairy industry and now lives peacefully at Mino Valley Farm Sanctuary.

Then the poem develops into a manifesto for the welfare, respect and dignity of animals, and in particular those who share our environment or revolve in its periphery, from cat and dog to horse and hare, via the humble gnat and dutiful spider. It then expands to the different segments of human society. The poem is a cautionary tale of retribution to those who scorn innocence and purity of heart in all their guises. The powerful forces of the Law of Attraction will eventually remedy any wrong-doings - or failing that - chastise the wrong-doers. If you mistreat an animal, expect to be mistreated back: 'You get what you give'. Bad karma boomerangs back, so beware!

For the purpose of this article, I am only including herewith excerpts. Missed-out parts are identified as "[...]". As for the animal pictures I have included, all have in common a connection to man - good or less so. Now let's get back to our poem...

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage

Mondika baby gorilla, Cincinnati Zoo, photography by Mark Dumont, via Flickr (August 2014)

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood
Each outcry of the Hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear
A Skylark wounded in the wing
A Cherubim does cease to sing
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul
The wild deer, wandring here & there
Keeps the Human Soul from Care

I adopted this lovely little lad, Tickle, from Manchester Dogs Home, in August 2006.

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The Wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity

[...]

Mendoza canestrinii (female jumping spider), photography by Juraj Komar, via Flickr

He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat
Feed them & thou will grow fat
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue
The poison of the Snake & Newt
is the sweat of Envys Foot
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent

[...]

Esther the Wonder Pig might well be the most pampered pig on earth! (pict source)

He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out

[...]

Twiggy was saved from the 'mean' streets of Vigo, Spain. (pict source)

Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of Day

* * *

P.S: Dying to entertain you? The Tyke Elephant Outlaw documentary film exposes the drama and outrage behind performing animals and the abomination and cruelty of the circus industry, as epitomised here by Tyke, an elephant whose spirit had been broken as a calf so she could just follow orders and perform circus tricks on cue. In August 1994 in Honolulu, she snapped. She trampled down her trainer and went on the rampage. She escaped the circus and her prison sentence of a life, but her natural quest for freedom would see her robbed of her life, under a hail of gunfire.

Playa de Soledad

Summer wraps up for Autumn

Days are snapping shut

Into those starless nights

And I miss you.

'Path to the Beach - Dolphin Sands, Australia', photo by Jess Gibbs, via Artflakes

Life has taken a turn

A forced leisurely stroll

In my heart there's a hurt

And I speed down the coastline

Speeding thoughts through my mind

Skid round the bend

Screech to an end.

I have no sight, no sound

No smell, no touch

Other than words

To communicate to you

The written word, my frustration

My hapless devotion

A needy string of letters

Sitting pretty on a page

Like a pearl necklace

Stretched to snap

And there it snaps...

'Wildflowers on Sand Dunes, Tarkine Coast', by Lonely Planet Images, via Artflakes

I am the bearer of good news

Weaver of illusions

Good fortune stand-up

Ballet dancer of hopes

Actress of your dreams

We are free spirits

In cages that we built

And I drink up to

Your every written word

Like a love potion.

In my deepest darkest hour

I kiss the air I breathe

And your skin I crave

The mirror I graze

I look in your eye

My mind's eye

Your gaze is my daze

And my days are fazed.

Long stretches of desolate beaches

As far as the heart can see

Solitude battered down by the winds

You're my Summer gone

Too soon to the Tropics

And the sunshine of your smile

I miss.

I want to be the Summer keepsake

To your whimsical thought

Your sunny disposition

Here in my heart

You may linger

Till we meet again.

Uncredited source, via Pinterest

And I want you

And I can't have you

My heart is at home

Only when it's with you

There's a will, there's a way

Here's a word, and here's two

So what else can I do

But compose a verse to you?

If you ever shed a tear

While you are reading this

Make sure it's joy

Because in this broken bliss

We are blessed

By togetherness

In our combined loneliness

Bound for better

And the betterest.

© Nathalie A. Hachet (27/09/2012). 

An Acute Case of the Wanderlust (Part 1)

One day I had a revelation, an epiphany. It had taken me years to come to the realisation that no matter what, I was never gonna be that stereotype woman that media and society define as the embodiement of success: a whippersnapper version of The Devil Wears Prada, with a marriage to boot and 2.1 kids in tow, with the glamorous suburban home, the neat lawn and the picket fence. The settled woman with all her needs met. Once upon a time I might have caressed the thought, especially the one about prince charming. Then I decided who was I to fool, apart from my 'well-wishing' parents and some 'well-meaning' friends?

'Whooper Swans, Japan', photo by Stefano Unterthiner, via National Geographic

Personal events gradually took me away from the shadow of that ideal life idea. For starters a miserable marriage that eroded the concept of that perfect family setting. I divorced. A few years later the economic recession further shook up our career woman. These were to be blessings in disguise as I would find out later. Such events give you wings to think on your feet and take charge of your direction in life in a bolder more assertive way. Because if you are not the master of your own destiny, at least be sure to be the actor, play an active part and get involved in your own life rather than be the victim.

I am a free spirit, there is no denying. You can't tin it, cage it, clone it. Like wordsmith William Wordsworth would put in verse, 'I wandered lonely as a cloud' over a field of golden daffodils, free and fancy-free, untroubled... As a child I used to revel in adventure books and in the Kuoni travel brochures that promised you Heaven on Earth twenty thousand miles away from home. American Far West period dramas and films like Out of Africa had me hooked. It was clear to me that one day I would unshackle from the obligatory rat race, travel the world and shack up with like-minded people. After deciding at a young age that air hostessing could be the way forward in order to satisfy my wanderlust, I ambitioned to become a photo journalist/ travel writer for the likes of National Geographic. I even imagined the possibility of becoming an actress, in fact combining innate creativity outlets with travel.

'Limestone Towers, Madagascar', photo by Stephen Alvarez, via National Geographic

I never became any of the above. I tamed up for a while. I played the career game. I tried to believe in home and marriage. I yearned stability and normality. Occasionally I did get itchy feet though. I remember vividly those British newspaper adverts from New Zealand authorities inviting emigration candidates to the New World. I saw emigration to faraway places as the answer to happiness. I wanted to make the move but got scared and just backed off. I needed that nudge to tilt me forward, that back-up. Or was that just an excuse to stay put and nurture regrets instead?

For the last year or so, I have been mingling with a crowd of world travellers and free spirits, some of whom with a guitar as weapon of mass seduction, who will never tick any of the boxes of our first paragraph and don't give a monkeys about it. These guys made me understand that you shouldn't base your self-worth on your salary figure and that no business, no company will set you up for life. You need enough money to get by and you need to make things and think outside the box. You need a job that is meaningful, where you give back to society and the world at large.

'Quiver Trees, Namibia', photo by Franz Lanting, via National Geographic

Scale back the volume of your belongings. Maybe home ownership is not your solution after all. Maybe being a no-strings-attached nomad is meant for you. You need to understand what motivates you, what gives you a kick, what makes you tick, and then act accordingly. Have an open mind and a smile to conquer the world, be tolerant of differences and be acceptant. You need to seek happiness always and encourage exchange with others. Contribute a difference to that world, no matter how modest. Substantiate your life with personal growth experiences from ethics to travel to charity, via ecology and sustainability. Now this talks my language as an 'armchair' ecologist. Giving a meaningful meaning to your life is what this is all about. This is part of my quest. My quest for wisdom. (to be continued)

No Labels

Easy come easy go... We live in a society where we stick labels on anything that moves, on anyone. We pep up our conversations and writings with a liberal use of words that take up space and have no meaning. Labels that help us codify people, styles, ideas, concepts, feelings. Hands up, I am myself guilty of labelling.

'Sheepish', photo by Karena Goldfinch, via Flickr (25/03/2010)

First we've got those passe-partout labels that are supposed to describe someone: worn-out, vague, elusive overused 'one-size-fits-all' adjective labels that are stickable and reusable and adaptable to all circumstances like velcro patches... Labels that don't mean that much to anyone anymore: cool, awesome, rad, great, fantastic...  And those adverbs that nail the message, reiterate it: a (little) bit, kinda/ sort of, very much, a lot/ loads, really, truly, definitely, totally, absolutely...

Problem is, my definition of 'cool' might be slightly off centre, your definition of 'cool' might be off limit, their definition of 'cool' might be plain preppy conservative... And I certainly won't agree with my dad's definition of 'cool' unless it involves Steve McQueen or a vintage Ford Mustang.

Cool as the Camaro! (Pict source via Tumblr)

I still have nightmares about my philosophy classes back in my last year of secondary school. I was 17, dressed to impress (in a bad way!) and just about managing my own eccentricities as a gothic rebel, so this was as philosophical as it was gonna get for me in that lifestage of mine. Then in class we were told not to use words like 'very' anymore. Either something was good or it wasn't. My teacher's pet hate was anyone saying 'absolutely true/ right'. Truth is absolute.

The teacher was even more suspicious of adjectives that involved wider quantification like huge, immense... Everything is in proportion and in relation to one another in the great scheme of things. She lost me. I recall a similar stance from Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society and this certainly left an impact on me. If philosophy never became my cuppa tea, at the very least it raised some awareness in me and did make me self-conscious about word usage and in particular those easy labels.

The King of Cool! (Time & Life Pictures/Getty Images, photo by John Dominis)

For instance, you either love someone or you don't. You don't love them 'just a bit'... Maybe you like them instead. Maybe you are fond of them. If you love them very much, you adore them. Then sure enough my philosophy teacher would step in and give us a spiel about adoration. Some words need to be used carefully, or - at least - with moderation.

Now check out those loose chat-up lines:

- 'Did you have a great time last night, honey?'
- 'I had a good time!'
- 'A good time, uh? Is that all you had? What was wrong?'
- 'Nothing was wrong. I just had a good time.'
- 'Just a good time, now I see... Well honey, don't worry about the next time, cos we're done!'

Now please - can I have those labels back? I kinda need them very very much!

January 2012 - Five Random Faves (Part 5)

Fave #5: Singing in tune with Les Cowboys Fringants!

A friend of La Baguette's recently introduced us to a French Canadian band and it was love at first sound! The song of choice is called 'Les Etoiles Filantes' (The Shooting Stars) from La Grand-Messe LP (2004) and is one of those haunting songs that you keep listening to for the words, the kind of song that makes you ponder about the poetry of life and makes you want to put pen to paper and give it a try for yourself. The video is simple yet quite cool. Check those long glances!

(Picture source)

Si je m'arrête un instant
Pour te parler de ma vie
Juste comme ça tranquillement
Dans un bar rue St-Denis

J'te racont'rai les souv'nirs
Bien gravés dans ma mémoire
De cette époque où vieillir
Était encore bien illusoire

Quand j'agaçais les p'tites filles
Pas loin des balançoires
Et que mon sac de billes
Devenait un vrai trésor

Ces hivers enneigés
À construire des igloos
Et rentrer les pieds gelés
Juste à temps pour Passe-Partout

Mais au bout du chemin dis-moi c'qui va rester
De la p'tite école et d'la cour de récré?
Quand les avions en papier ne partent plus au vent
On se dit que l'bon temps passe final'ment...
...Comme une étoile filante

Si je m'arrête un instant
Pour te parler de ma vie
Je constate que bien souvent
On choisit pas mais on subit
Et que les rêves des ti-culs
s'évanouissent ou se refoulent
Dans cette réalité crue
Qui nous embarque dans le moule

Le trentaine, la bedaine
Les morveux, l'hypothèque
Les bonheurs et les peines
Les bons coups et les échecs

Travailler, faire d'son mieux
En arracher, s'en sortir
Et espérer être heureux
Un peu avant de mourir

Mais au bout du chemin dis-moi c'qui va rester
De notre p'tit passage dans ce monde effréné
Après avoir existé pour gagner du temps
On s'dira que l'on était finalement
... Que des étoiles filantes

Si je m'arrête un instant
Pour te parler de ma vie
Juste comme ça tranquillement
Pas loin du Carré St-Louis

C'est qu'avec toi je suis bien
Et que j'ai pu' l'goût de m'en faire
Parce que tsé voir trop loin
C'pas mieux que r'garder en arrière

Malgré les vieilles amertumes
Et les amours qui passent
Les chums qu'on perd dans' brume
Et les idéaux qui se cassent

La vie s'accroche et renaît
Comme les printemps reviennent
Dans une bouffée d'air frais
Qui apaise les coeurs en peine

Ça fait qu' si à soir t'as envie de rester
Avec moi, la nuit est douce, on peut marcher
Et même si on sait ben que tout dure rien qu'un temps
J'aimerais ça que tu sois pour un moment...
... Mon étoile filante

Mais au bout du chemin dis-moi c'qui va rester...
Mais au bout du chemin dis-moi c'qui va rester...
... Des étoiles filantes 


Les Cowboys Fringants - Etoiles Filantes par archambault-musique

If I stop for a while
To tell you 'bout my life
Just like that, no hassle
In a bar rue St-Denis

I'll tell you 'bout
The memories etched in
'Bout that time when getting old
Was only a distant memory

When I used to annoy
The little girls by the swings
And my bag of marbles
Was some true treasure

And those snowy Winters
Spent building igloos
Getting home freezing cold
Just in time for Passe-Partout

But at the end of the day tell me
What's left of the school yard?
When paper planes won't fly to the wind
You just say that good times shoot by...
... Like a shooting star

If I stop for a while
To tell you 'bout my life
I notice that often
We have no choice
Decisions are made for us

And dreams we had as kids
Fade away or are replaced
By the stark reality
That the norm moulds us in

Knocking on thirty, getting a belly
Kids and mortgages
Joys and tears
The good deals and the bad deals

Making a living, doing one's best
Working hard, succeeding
And hoping to be a lil' happy
Before popping it

But at the end of the day
What's left of our quick foray
Into that crazy world
After making a living to save some time
We'll say that finally...
... We are shooting stars

If I stop for a while
To talk to you 'bout my life
Just like that, no hassle
Nearby Carré St-Louis

It's cos' I feel fine with you
And I'm over getting worried for nothing
Cos' you know, looking too far ahead
Is no better than looking back

Despite the old bitterness
And fleeting love affairs
The chums we lose in the fog
And the ideals that get broken

Life holds on and gets reborn
With Spring back on
In a breath of fresh air
That soothes sore hearts

So if one night you wanna stay
With me, night is mild
We can take a walk
And even if we know that nothing lasts
At least I'd like you to be for a while
... My shooting star

But at the end of the day tell me what will become...
But at the end of the day tell me what will become...
... Of the shooting stars

* translated by La Baguette Magique *

Ode to the City

Rock solid

With a heart of glass and limbs of steel

A mosaic of human complexities

A promised land, a magical kingdom

A hive of activity, a network of new horizons

The mother of all inventions,

A vacuum, a pool of destitution

A road to nowhere, a dead-end destination

Your heartbeat - unmissable

Your pace of life - quick and fast

Your attraction - magnetic

You are everyone, everything

You make dizzy, you are risqué

You weave dreams right from the edge

Make the impossible feasible

You create fashion trends,

Dollar signs all around

Inhabit the rise and fall of celebs

Launch fads by the conveyor-belt

Turn them into fast-moving consumer goods

You manufacture beauty and happiness

You are capitalism personified, you decide

Free trade, free will, free spirit, freemason

You enthuse, you inspire, you move, you consume

You fathom your own rules, you lead, you plead

You control, you happen, you are at the heart

Of where things happen - good and bad

You are an art form, a social movement

Grace and reason, a lifestyle, a prayer

Ever-changing, ever-marvelling

Never asleep, never doubting

You press on, push on, move forward

You are life and turn lives upside-down

You are the nerve centre, the focus, the obsession

Hope, faith, past, present and future

All rolled into one big human reason

To surpass oneself, to vanquish fears

Aim for tomorrow today and never mourn yesterday

To grow bigger, stronger, to rise higher

To elevate your spirit and your soul

Scrape the sky with your intentions and your goals

You are ambitious and a success story

Demanding of yourself and never content

You are proud, you are rich and a pauper too

You run, you jump and boogie

Whizz down to the sound of time and money

You have fun, kid yourself, you kid us

Take the long way home, break hearts, go bust

You are one last call, one last-ditch attempt

For you are one big illusion too

And a lesson to those ready to question you.

by © Nathalie Hachet 2010

Photographic references (from top page down):

• Robert Doisneau, Issy-les-Moulineaux, La Ceinture Verte (Parisian green belt), 1949
• Rockefeller Center under construction, New York City, 1932, by Hamilton M. Wright for Aerial Explorations, Inc., N.Y., 1932, from the New York World-Telegram Collection at the U.S. Library of Congress, via Wikipedia and Flickr 
• L.S. Lowry, Great Ancoats Street, Manchester, 1930