September 15, 2006

  • *sigh* . . .   Well it has been 30 years I guess. . .


    An old poem I wrote about learning to tie my shoes:


     


     


     


          OUT


     


    Quiet                             A fog of  blue


                                        Envelopes you


                                        Borders are no longer.


                                        Night nor day


                                        You fade away


                                        And color becomes stronger.


     


    Silence                          Your body shakes


                                        The whole earth quakes


                                        You’re caught between two worlds.


                                        There you are


                                        Not too far


                                        Now slip into the swirls.


     


    Nothing                          You leave behind


                                        Your body’s mind


                                        And explode into the abstract.


                                        Objects flying


                                        Colors winding


                                        A kaleidoscope in a fact.


     


    Movement                      Different dimensions     


                                        Worlds within them


                                        Like pancakes stacked up high.


                                        You see the planes       


                                        None the same


                                        Time to fly inside.


     


    In                                 A jungle here   


                                        A desert there


                                        None exist, and yet you see them.


                                        Nirvana, physical


                                        Limbo, spiritual


                                        The earth, and as it has been.


     


    Around                          You are doing well


                                        But this is not your realm.


                                        Spirit beings exist here.


                                        Light too fast to see


                                        Dark so vast and mean


                                        Only Saints would have no fear.


     


    Danger                           For here we can be lost


                                        Chased about and tossed


                                        If we play their little games.


                                        They’ll frighten and excite us


                                        Delude us and delight us


                                        To entice us to remain. . .


     


    Return                           The thought:


                                        “Fled is that music


                                        Do I wake or sleep?    


                                        Was it a vision,


                                        Or a waking dream?”