I dreamt I was cycling in a velodrome of words
But then I suddenly broke into a barricade, a blind spot!
But it turned out, it was a barrage, a rain!
Would I run for cover, when ideograms, pictograms,
glyphs, hieroglyphs, holograms, came rushing through
the sky of my imagination? Would I be buried under?
When I was only hoping for a little love amulet, a little trinket…
Mum and Dad passing me a gift like a parcel-baton
in the chain to posterity. I felt the words deluge my pillows,
shimmering beads scattered all over the floor; a folklore
becoming pillars holding the stone-temple of my formation;
where the stone flexed like malleable fabric of steel making an entire
lexicon become paraphernalia soaked in my glass of Coke!
For I had a sweet tooth for liquid; pining for the actual ambrosia…
The nectar that only original divinity could give me!
So am I windward or leeward to destiny…as all these words
cause me to break into an unearthly song…like words handcrafted
from Pagan spirituality turning out of a rainbow in a limitless
darkness of light…what is initial decorum or ultimate destiny?…
what is hasty motion toward some locative loquaciousness?…
what is instinctive impetuosity?…Or is intuitive intrepidity…inspirational
inviolateness – a posture, passion or progression? What is the everyday burning sun,
scalding the sky with luminescence?…Or turning the lights on in the mind’s eye?…
when the steadfast subtlety of stillness…is the only thing that destinies
my running, flying, wandering…. into the Goldilocks zone of you, my true love!
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