Free Poem by Jay Kaminski

Weary, worn, drained and drifting.
Summon my mind to the state of drowsy.
Summon my eyes to the verge of darkness.
Taketh thy soul, so very worn, yet tender.
Taketh, my thoughts someplace pure.
Show me dimensions of mind.
Yes, take me to thee brink of bitter existance.
Taketh me aboard your ark, your ship, your fleet.
Row me, yes row me, to forgiveness.
Row me through harsh and jagged sorrow.
Row me, yes row me, to everlasting bliss.
Row me to utter perfection.
Show me your paradise——
The divine land of enchantment——
Row me, yes row me, to exuberant madness.
Row me to the subconscious state of pure, virgin brilliance——
The mind.
Lost and unaccounted for.
The soul.
Loose——
Free of the shackles holding one back from the true visions of wonder——
Free and wild, a foreign land.
No rules, or regulations,
nor foolish stipulations.
Unguided, free from direction or order.
Spontaneous, surreal, immense waves of imagery,
crashing the shore, clamorously, as if a strike of Lightning,
trailed intimately, at his heels by Thunder, his loud audacious wife.
Thoughts are reality!
Creation is life!
Ideas are motion!
Mind is mended, clensed of daily torture.
Free to run, like the raging western winds, ripping through a prairie in Kansas,
carrying remnants of journeys past, storing them in a cloud of retention,
flowing as if though, source infinite.
Free to run like the mighty snow of Colorado, pushing itself in a flurry of fury,
to take the mountainside hostage on it's pensive plummet, it's downward spiral——
Free.
Dash!
Dart!
Scurry!
Scamper!
Trip!
Trot!
Shuffle!
Shamble!
Free.
Free, yes, from the heavy load.
Free from the weight of the world——
Free!