I

Falling

featureless

dream of black and blue,

a thrilling deathly fall………. then shooting consciousness,

empty black presence...some sorta devil figment of a twisted mind bent straight.....
eternity!....the grand euphemism of our existence.

We feel it just like Blake… and know, when perception is clear in fresh night,
                                                                                 and in the frozen grassy morning,
         and loping home under the billion specked universe in bleary eyed solitude,
that’s all there is...eternity.

Its on every page, in every poem.... it is the endlessness that makes our souls ephemeral.

II

Those who live in the naive back alleys of the mind,
who live in shining gold consumption,
who merrily wonder the glass air-conditioned nightmare monuments to our capitalist men (and the women who now wear pinstriped sadness too)
they will drown in endless time, because money has no time for faith.

So we must live with souls agape to the restless swell of beings, and remember forever, for the only truth worth living by is the truth that others feel,

We must grab our passages of time, push this way and that,
and in tiny courageous soulfulness thrash in the anarchic swell of egos and achievements, hoping it will shift an eternity where the ships so rarely have heroic captains.