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Cold steel frames glass canyons wet with rain
Concrete and plaster, curtains and carpet
LED lamps make cones of golden light
An oasis in the urban jungle

Surviving is not living as you should
Experience everything leave nothing
No stone unturned or crevice unexplored
People seen as fellow adventurers

Chance meetings destined to be pivot points
Synchronicity of shared compulsion
Advancing intellectual ideas
Bright spots of energy coalescing

Grey clouds are a sign of impending rain
Though Melbourne has 4 seasons in a day
Artistic expressions explored in paint
Echoes talent left for us to enjoy

Tall seats raggedly line worn counter tops
Tired staff complete their morning routine
Nicotine and caffeine the drugs of choice
Life’s pleasures lost in daily drudgery

Stark reminders we should always enjoy
Conversations as connected beings
Not distracted by physical actions
Just two souls briefly engaged in knowing

Poem written by Timothy Miller 26 November 2023 (c)

Cold predawn light filtered through gumtree leaves
Rocky shoreline interrupting marching
Inexorable lines of crashing waves
Muted birdsong heralding a new day

Eyes straining extracting details from gloom
Watercolour scene reminiscent of
Billabongs surrounded by smoky fires
Damper cooking alongside Billy tea

Digital technology has no place
Unrelenting forces of wind and waves
A millennia of repetition
Civilization made a mockery

How many humans have stood and listened
Footprints just temporary impressions
While capturing visual moments of time
Diversity of shared recollections

Do experiences create the scene
Or does the scene script the experience
Oral traditions of past memories
Tiny shards of shattered recollections

Rocky outcrops hold distant memories
Beyond transient homo sapiens
Brief excursions amongst ancient beings
Force perspective of our place in this world

Giant ghost gums add their rustling whispers
Foliage doomed in an endless cycle
Sprouting and blossoming only to fall
Trod underfoot and remembered no more

Will the memories of my lifetime here
People and places and things I hold dear
Matter one whit in six months or a year
Does anyone notice or even care

Of what import are words of love and care
The universe makes it brutally clear
Two souls intertwined whose pathways are shared
Does true love exist to just disappear

Are rocks and trees cognizant of humans
Meandering briefly through their landscape
Ignoring their longevity as we
Crash like waves that are remembered no more

Cosmic repercussions of two lovers
Declaring thoughts aloud into the air
Waveforms of sound now historically there
Imbued into the weave of time and space

Aeons of history pivot on this
Singular expression breathed into life
Daring the universe to object to
The daring impertinence that is l

Two souls tread lightly through ancient forests
Dance over pebbled shores glistening with
Transient foam blissfully unaware
Their actions have altered reality

Poem written 19 November 2023 by Tim Miller

Unremarkable white SUV
Sneaking quietly
Through the countryside
The Squire of Affinity
Tiptoeing gently
Through the weave of reality

Today I walked lightly on my feet, feeling refreshed from a good (if broken) sleep. I had napped early and then watched some female warriors sparring in a match before heading back to my chambers to rest alone.
My destination was sure, the exact journey unknown as I navigated through crowds of horses and carriages conveying their passengers to the bustling commerce quarter. Many would be going to browse, purchase and taste the delights of the many vendors all clamouring for your coins. Others would be going to spend a day of drudgery; serving, washing dishes, saying please and thank you and being polite to rude rich women and passively aggressive wealthy men. Others were heading to a boring office with many corporate overlords in fantastic commerce ventures or bureaucratic government work pens. I'm not sure which I would have preferred, but I am glad I do not have to be part of that rat race.
I had wended my way into quieter streets through a leafy suburb in my carriage before leaving my team of horses and my racing cart with a valet service to be cared for until my return. Of which time I was necessarily vague, as I had a leisurely day before me. The first stop was to be a den of disrepute, although hiding behind a facade of public benevolence. The furtive meeting with the crime lord who controlled the major drug supplies around here while appearing to work out of a government office was the best cover ever I thought. He slipped me a secret handshake that let me know as I passed my gold coin over inside my palm, that his motley crew were going to give me the best private sensory experience possible. I slipped into the hidden room through the panel that didn’t look like a door, and immediately was enveloped in the mystical ambience of the industrious space. Arcane figures were silhouetted behind frosted glass windows fronting rooms of potions and bottles of mystical and exotic ingredients. These wizards were the brew masters. Kept in thrall and forced to brew their potions every day, they were the masters of their craft.
Other workers bustled around the many patrons attending to their every need. Some visitors to the establishment were bright and alert, the drugs energising them as they made conversation, often loudly, with their clients and sycophants, maybe minor family members or distant cousins. Other patrons were clearly under the spell and the grip of the many courses of drugs they had consumed, lying back glassy eyed, alone and ignored by all.
I headed for my usual chair as the staff flocked around me making their requests. Did I want my usual brew, what boosters and additives did I desire and were there any adverse effects to my previous experience? I acknowledged them all and thanked them for their service as I gave the answers. The magicians in the rear were making the best stuff and I was enjoying the rush, the clear headedness, the ability to focus and my ruthless ambition to realise my dreams that was inspired by these chemicals.
Today as I lay back and was pampered I planned on delivering some strong messages to some clients informing them I knew their risky business practices were ging to get them in trouble. However they could ensure their safety and security by employing my team of agents, technical wizards and strongmen. From others I ensured my regular extortion and protection money was being extracted and letting them know just what we had done for their protection money. They were as much reliant on us as we were on them, a symbiotic relationship if you like. The large network of spies, agents and information gatherers I had built over many years of shadowy dealings on the side of the large corporates had many rich information sources. I reached out to some of these people via secret messengers who slipped in and out of the shadows, took my notes or returned notes from the recipients. The day was advancing rapidly to the next item on my list, the port. Down here where the whistle of the gulls, the fresh salty air blowing my hair and the hoarse yelling of stevedores combined with the many scents of fish, fresh cut timber and tar, and the occasional bitter smell of tobacco and coffee as labourers took their breaks. Here I had to slip a package to a freight forward agent I had marked for reliable service. I knew from previous experience he could be relied on to get my package to my client. My own team of wizards had constructed a marvel of the ages, for which everyone hankered after. My client was desperate for the latest and best to please his mistress, and so this had been constructed especially for her desires and needs. It even included personal touches with a magical enclosed viewer that displayed her memories of her children to her, as if she was there!
I knew this gift would have my client being blessed with her favour and in turn deferential to me. I know he will become reliant on these marvels and thus my service to him assured and my riches amass.
After the port and all its bustling commerce, I will attend a luncheon, a simple repast for the time of the day when my mistress of many years will regale me with tales of dealing with the tiresome servants while we are entertained by some jesters in the background.
The afternoon is yet to be determined. I like the chaotic nature of energy that is released when just in that moment of time with no regard to past or future.
After whatever that period of time brings to me, I will press the magic buttons that summon food to my table before retiring to my entertainment chamber. No female warriors tonight, rather I have granted an audience with the researchers who are using my body to assess the gains to its athletic capability while meditating and taking ice baths.

Actual scenario - hospital for cancer chemo treatment during which I will triage my emails and bill some customers, followed by the post office where I send a new PC to a client for his wife, lunch on the couch with Jude with Netflix in the background. Dinner and a video call with the university researchers whom I have joined a study by Whoop with.