Monday, November 12, 2012

Grass Puddle

So, you're lying in a field-
a puddle of what you once called yourself
fearful, because being mortal has never left your mind, and death- its cousin, is never too far behind.
But you're laughing,
because as much as you are afraid, you know that this puddle is only a container
for what you mind knew before knowing.

In this field of insanity trees are laughing at you
as you rock back and forth while the music keeps playing,
only hearing the same words over and over and
horses on sticks rise past you as you float to the top where a crazy house has put all of your friends behind the mirrors.

It feels like a broken jack in the box.
You know the clowns have all popped out and run a muck
and you really don't care what they do now because you can't tell if that is grass
or if those are your legs.

A man comes out from the circus crowd and exclaims:
It's like a dream! It is all like a beautiful dream!

And like Merlin speaking an ancient incantation, you suddenly feel like a spell has been lifted from  you with this notion.

What you're experiencing isn't real but only the perception of a thought culmination and experiences in your imagination. All you have to do is wake up...

but it's only midnight with at least five hours until dawn.

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