Swallowed By A Dragon Myself (Rev.) 7.4.2008 Poem by Margaret Alice

I’m not interested in your shenanigans, I’m not
interested in anything; I don’t care to fight
monsters and dragons, it pretty much feels as
if I’ve been swallowed by a dragon personally

I’m inside it now, wallowing in the blackness of
dragon intestines, combing through the mine of
spiritual wisdom I’ve stored in my mind whenever
bored enough to dig for pearls of insight

Though I try with all my might to take off and fly
into a new spiritual world, in my mind’s eye all
I see is scenes enacted by my characters living in
strife, their shenanigans fail to elicit a chuckle

So who is watching whom, am I observer or observee,
why don’t I laugh as my characters create fun, unfolding
stories in my head; why do they act independently
of the me who is presumably doing their thinking

If I’m not interested in their shenanigans, am I not
interested in me? - if not - and the work on my table
is more wearying and immaterial by the minute -
where did my spirit go, is my body ill, or my mind?

A new Spanish Inquisition would be a solution to
existential dilemmas of withdrawal and depression –
although, to me, this is dragon-time,
empty of meaning, empty of me

I’m lost without my spirit, does the soul still exist;
if it does, has it become a dragon itself, swallowing
time and meaning, devouring space and being, leaving
empty space where I used to be…