Neknurd Meop Poem by Shriram Iyengar

Images swim past delirious eyes
Moving, even when the sight is still
Through steady landscapes of green
That bob up and down when seen
The eye struggles to keep straight
Heady fumes that rise high
And white to a filled head
Filling it with no stranger sights
Than it might know when sober
Ideas float in, and float by through
Corridors of unconscious conscience
Where trains of thought keep passing
Endlessly to unknown destinations
In the landless nation of imagination
And the I, sleeps amongst boughs
Of green vines where Bacchus ages
His wines, tempered by the heat
And chilled by the cold of an
Unsteady, passionate heart that
Cannot decide its intentions best
Between what is and what is not
And considers the contrary to be,
To fly up to heavens where it can
Scarce attempt to be.
The flight is fanciful, and then
Comes the fall.