The Sunburst of trauma the explosion of a moment,
Rips the colour from the day and turns it inside out.
Black and white, X-ray sharp it permeates all that’s solid,
It exposes what is hidden to the glare of constant replaying memories.
Now burned against the white walls of cranial caverns,
As if the first confused scrawling of early man.
We tentatively explore the brushstrokes of residual time,
Probing the meaning of what indelibly remains.
They are nothing but the imprint of Shadows,
the cast off pupa from which everything after flourished into flight
Notes from life 
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I constantly and probably to the annoyance of others return to this subject. The act of writing these thoughts is itself an exorcism so I will not apologise for it, I have to find the positive aspects which my experiences offered up to me. It is possible for us to fall into days of wallowing despair, knowing where the good stuff is that can rip us from that place is like a magic trick, it is the best of things and is often as simple as a walk through the woods.
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