ether bridge

it's one of those early summer nights
with a purple sky and a yellow moon.
it's one of those nights where you
figure there's a ladder to the clouds
somewhere very close, if only you
knew where to find it. maybe it's
on the side of Sunrise Hwy where
you saw a troupe of Goslings the
other day.
                I mean, it has to be close. The
Honeysuckle flowers are opening and if
a ladder to the heavens has a smell,
that must be it. that or sandalwood.
good idea- follow your nose.

And what would you find when
you got there? it's probably much
purpler, and smells like honeysuckle
or sandalwood. there is no veil
between you and the stars, you
can sit crosslegged and have a
conversation with one. probably
also Mountain is playing. they say
that incense smoke carries your thoughts
up to the heavens. it's like a curling,
eddying ether bridge. that's what
Mountain does for me. if i were
sitting on a cloud i am sure i would
be hearing Leslie West.

Probably when you get up there mysticism
isn't so mysterious- it's more accessible.
there are charts and sigils and symbols
and runes and you know instinctively
what all of them mean. And all
of your friends are already there-
or if they're not, you can toss them
a line.
          haul them up. no good being
alone up here, is it? you, the stars,
and the summer breeze... seven
spinning discs for everyone, and the
moon sailing overhead like a golden
pocketwatch. sounds lovely.
it is a good thing for the leopard
jasper in your talisman bag, or
else you might not have found your
way here.

wander home just as the sun is about
to rise, and go to bed, as the birds
sing a good morning lullabye.