Saturday, June 23, 2012

I am a traveler

I am a shut in,

I am the wise man,

I am the village idiot,

I sail upon this infinite,

ever expanding,

ever shrinking sphere,

the turbulence of my soul tilts,

and rocks my fragile vessel which,

as my weathered old uncle

with palms that could have been the bark

of some ancient tree

from some past life once told me,

this hull and these sails are my constant savior,

the only thing between my self,

and between the eternal sea of all,

and even as this thought touches my thoughts,

the ship melts and is taken by the ocean,

which swallows me and I swim in it,

breathing in the water, filling my lungs with this strange liquid,

this liquid of simultaneous life and death,

and I am very far,

the stars whirl past me as these words extend forth into the incomprehensible

all of everything and nothing,

It is too much

I search for the void,

a hole in space, time, and soul that I might slip through into beyond the black,

I see it approach and pull me in,

my pace quickens down this corridor,

the door-less entrance into less than nothing is at hand and I am about to step through,


when I feel your eyes on my back,

and before I can even turn,

I am home.