I lie down
On the bed
Relax into my own head
I start to feel
The power
Of the astral light
Rising through my body
Faster than
The speed of light
I feel a calm
As my body shoots
Into an astral time
As I ride along
On the colours
Of the astral plane
I see far away places
Sandy beaches
Seas so blue
I see places
With no faces
Faces with no places
People from my past life
People from the next
Then I return to my bed
With peace in my head
Knowing it's not
My journeys end
I love the yourney from within -one sees so much more in a meditative state.Great write
I'm interested in the astral plain as well.Try 'A Dark Fire'... when you feel inclined. Thanks.
I see no places with no faces Knowing it's not My journeys end From the feelings described in this poem, it's amazing how many visual images emerge. It reminds me of a place that can not be imagined yet you are there. Really enjoyed this. Looking forward to reading more.
The bossy edge of astronomy for the star poet here..i thought...but in reality people will have problems with knowing yours-people from the past life....some unprecendented events in a flurry alltogether might happen as unwanted as troubles..But is better when the astral plane remains only a dream forgotten or as a turning point in the mind for individual betterments.All in all wonderful foreplay of words interconnected here.Truly majestic.Eternal and etherally lovely.Swashbuckling is your poetic mind.Magnificent!
Some of these sods leave me cold and sweating and others melancholy beyond belief and just occasionally I wake at 5am and think - Yeah! ! I think I understand this one but am wary having seen what others made of my writings!
I am not going to try to fix your poem into my own personal scheme of life; whether philosophical, religious, or whatever..but you have a clear voice, and I share some elements of the 'astral' type of experience; I have dreams, visions and voices- the dreams are often, they often come true; the visions much more rare- and they are often in the form of a warning, like some dreams are- but the voices, though extremely rare, are DEAD ON- and though they don't always know the outcome- they force me to focus attention on something I need to, something I don't do well without a stimulus. Love your poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow powerful....very intresting, love to see what else you have...look forward to more.