Come, sway with my soul,
Sing peans to paradise,
Eyes carpet the road beyond.
How many versions do you see,
Is yours any different now,
Than the one you ever saw in me,
Carving blossoms,
Craving certitude.
Come, sway with my soul,
A puppet on a smouldering string…
It was everything in that bag for me and I knew it.
Everyone saw my smile.
Some people wondered what was inside.
Some asked.
Some told me they had done the same a long time ago and I asked them what they found.
Funny, some didn’t really remember.
There was a man though who took his hat off and turned his eyes upwards.
He told me that he found out that everything that was inside was also outside.
He held my hand and smiled at me.
This strange, ecstatic man
ponders the journey of the stars
mathematically minding
the debris of the Universe
that crashes coughing into the planets
and mars the stripes of Jupiter.
He contemplates comets
with the intensity of a cat
lapping up gravy,
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