Riding The Wave: Existential Pre Gaming The Psyche Poem by Ann Mckeeman

It's two in the morning...of course I am awake
Pulled the universal night shift again
It's not bad...in fact it gets better
with every life cycle...the tension
eases
like the feeling of another body
laying beside you, just before it's mind drifts
into the realms of other wheres

Two ten...and how to explain
The rushing waters of human emotions
No..it is more than one photo of a cat
Who no longer considers me owned...

It is the silky silent soul whisper
Of a hundred cats, in a hundred lives
In each and every moment from the Beginning
And back, Beyond into this Now.

Two thirteen... consider it surfing
seeing the roll of the waves
knowing, eventually

That mean cascade of seaweed threaded, salt foamed,
luscious experience, is going to crest...

But you've ridden this wave before
(we have... all of us)
(..all one of us)
so this tide, you slide your board
Into the briny swirl early...
Hoping to gain momentum for when the swell hits

Two twenty
Yeah, it hits
Right about two a.m.
As many strategies, as we have tried
When the shock of the turbulence hits
And drives us under...

It is still as fresh for a moment
As any new born babes skin
Still soft and clear...as a lover's kiss

Pre gaming prepares us for the process

But each breath must be formed
Unique
No matter how the surf cuts
Or how far we are from shore
When we realize...it's come for us again

Two twenty seven
Inhale
Exhale


(no coffee breaks on the night shift...)

It's a living...