doll
bound to ligaments and bone,
wrought from broad conditions, ocean deep,
an ego manifests from out the void.
unsure of what it is and all it seems to be,
the puppet primps and preens, convinced
a self exists which animates the limbs,
buried deep behind those wooden eyes
that study every feature reflected from the mirror.
from out the depths of mystery
hidden strings connect at every joint—
each act of will, intention, feeling, thought
forever yanked by tethers attached to strong desires.
the puppet strives to find its way,
rag-dolled all across the stage of life,
forever split between resolves and doubts
as countless unseen forces grope out to jerk its wires.
dream
vapors swirl around and round,
revealing random moments through the gray.
shadows gaze from out the looking glass,
silhouettes of selfhood outlined in the haze.
towers loom, return to gloom,
warped in folds of ever phasing mists.
power poles appear and disappear
drifting through the halflight like momentary ghosts.
years wrinkle into furrowed skin,
the past and present bound to creaking joints.
vision blurs to fancy, folded in
reflection, fantasy, and regrets now half recalled.
memories dissolve in fogs,
welled from seas of enigmatic depths,
or fade into the dim obscurity
of distances too great for the greatest mind to scan.
stream
potential storms from out the void,
gathered into wide torrential flows.
circumstances surge against the shores,
reshaping every moment the waterways of mind.
and every river finds its way
to where abysmal psyches rise and fall,
bound to heavy currents old as time,
gripped by massive motions recircled round the soul.
egos crest on countless waves,
reflecting momentary shades of light,
salient on the undulating seas
of bottomless conditions recycled through the deep.
breath evaporates to join
the birth of oceans, rivers, clouds and stars,
convolved forever with emergent shades
of consciousness, embodied by ever changing forms.





You've just alleviated that disappointment in whole.

moment when they see the parallels with their own life processes.











31 old applause
