The spent cartridge of inspiration hangs in mid air, arrested as if Time and Space conspired to offset that energy which aspires to fire the ages, and shatter the need for conceptual anchors. Awaiting the meeting which would mutate mate to mating, pivot and pillow word challenge the anchors of Tie and Place, the immortality of the soul, seek to block the spirit's mating/meeting with itself.
A straight line, desperate to [t]race with light itself, as if its life depended upon its speed, soars, curving, through the universe attempting to reach, underscore, and underline itself. Light affects all levels of cosmic consciousness until the circle reforms an image of universal harmony.
Emotions long to [l]ink the pages of the Present, intertwining Past and Future, and, in letters large as life, decipher themselves, decode the genius so near, and yet so far. The door of insight and enlightenment is ever ajar, though it often seems too narrow to all who ephemerally flicker through their three score years and ten.
The sleeper seeks to wake, awakening unlooked for in this temporal continuum. Kernel, unrooted from the inner recesses of the mind, that dark fertile area where creativity restlessly anticipates release, bursts into activity. Innovation is considered cancerous by many who would their inner selves refute, or fear to know. The universal soul awaits the inspiration to send the sap soaring, outpouring at all levels. Tendrils tentatively touch, the tenderly tease the tortured synapses of the spirit. Explosion of consciousness calls all, especially itself, into question. Truth's essential essence reflects prismatically on all aspects of awareness, the soul works on the Will to redefine the Way.
The sleeper wakes, works on the Will, finds, refines, and redefines the Way.
(28 September 1997)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem