Who am I

why do I

when will I

where can I

Answers elude

My identity un-formed and crude

Mother pretends

The show never ends

Until the curtain is drawn 

All the doors are closed and simulations suspend

I don't know who I am

Give anything to be sure

Stand firm in my convictions 

On both sides of the door

No duplicity here

All masks removed

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A Flight of Fancy

Imagine to be an aviator

To leave terra-firma and fly

To unlock the shackles of gravity

Be weightless, and reach for the sky

John and Macko were only thirteen

So how could they dream such a thing?

Two working-class lads, from Grimstone Low

With ambitions to take to the wing

They were both academically average

And failing at school, it ...

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Some day in the future

dawn will break again

None be grudges nursed

 or space  for any disdain

Where vales be pristine

 living modest and plain

Bliss ...

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