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Who?
by dee Thursday, Dec 28 2017, 9:05am
international / poetry / post

this one is not from the muse
impulses indicate another source

a seamless slide show begins across
the screen of my mind
associated with tugs and impatience --
one would think the dead should know
to be smooth and deliberate if a message
is to be successfully transmitted,
the frantic aspect indicates
one not yet adjusted to the nether world
or a lunatic that has clung to his/her lunacy
even in death

we shall see

clouds race across the sky though only a breeze
cymbalises the leaves of trees lower down

a wavering horizon ruptures revealing
the tragic horror of those suffocating
in the consequences of past actions, deeds
and perverse thoughts, yes, thoughts create consequences,
be aware living and polish your minds
of all blemishes in order for the radiance to reflect
from you

the sea is as thick as sludge moving slowly but moving
this one is stuck and suffocating but the dead can only be reborn
not suffer a second death in a world of the dead

a wind-blown stunted bush on the shore
supports one tiny blossom
which is seen by the trapped;
attracted they endeavour to emerge from the sludge
and fight its stickiness ever so furiously to reach that blossom

none are able to emerge from the sludge
as fighting only increases viscosity

i watch and wait

but nothing coherent is delivered only hopelessness,
futility and rage

yet escape is simple, yield, accept prevailing circumstances
and allow the mind to settle, only then are options presented
which lead to various roads of freedom,
some short and easy, others arduous and long
deal with each according to your lot and create
more options until freedom of the soul
is achieved

with that i close the door on that forlorn world

an ancient lute delivers a soothing melody
a new fissure/horizon sits below a huge red rose
hovering among the white clouds of this sky

i wait for it to rupture and reveal the inhabitants
of that world