1 poem, 4 authors Myself, Brian, Woody (who picked us up hitch-hiking) and Jeanna wrote this poem together as we took the ferry from the South Island to the North.
I sit beneath this sun of ours. Watching waves pass on by, thinking not of time, but eternal sunshine. Of emerald bays where dolphins play, of purple haze and golden rays.
Our light is shines like purple haze, on rainy days in the month of may…sit back and relax let the spirit relapse, for when we sit, like piles of sticks the sun it drips like a solar eclipse…my mind it trips on creations tricks.
Sailing across the Cook Strait, almost arrived too late. My dog is crying in his cage, probably sick from the tumbling waves. Can’t wait to reach the other side, so can get back to my new years ride.
Into the new, the ferry we ride carried along by the oceans tide. To Wellington’s harbor and hours unknown. This dream has been planted, watered and sown. Our lives, now our stories, were first scripted in those dreams. For a while they lay dormant until the universe screamed. Now we’re here in this moment, surrounded by wind, water, sky. To continue this story until the day we die.
