Would I walk in the woods of the night
where I don’t know if the star-spangled sky
are yellow lights signaling me in or shunting
me out? If I had wisdom to perceive the ribaldry
of a destiny compelled by villains? But I am
not going to be contemptuous of the sky or the stars,
even if I am disgraced with overlying treachery!
This has become an ironical habit, a walk in pervasive
comitragedy. I see a unicorn in a distance,
and when I am about to touch its mythic beauty,
I realise it is just wet paint. At least, realisation
still doesn’t fail me before I leap headlong into a well;
even if percipience does. I look to the stars for
a gift of perspicacity, they tell me they are mightily
constrained. I am just amazed at the hobgoblins
set forth by the treachery all over the place to
subdue me. Am I Don Qixote talking to my absent
Sancho Panza; waiting in the delirium of passion
or dispassion? Am I convict or convicted about
my mission against the demons pervading my
circumstances and making it a whirlpool predicament!
I am certainly not Alice in Wonderland? When I jumped
hemispheres, I didn’t stop being embattled? Is Oz my home?
I am a nomad out of compulsion! All ye sinews of Canberra,
you cannot still me! I dare you at your own risk of eternal
damnation! I have no sympathy for evil using flaccid
coercion tactics! These are the colours and shades I have
resolutely and determinedly Donned! Seems like the origin
and its contents were the only things righteous. Everything
that followed from the rapined source of all things was evil
by default! This is damnation that you all believe is your comfort
Zone! Somehow, I feel that I am a walking sapling, walking in
the forest of a hairy chest of a divine beast. As I negotiate the
spaces between these seemingly humongous trees, I begin
to feel convicted about what the trees are whispering to me:
That I became Lilliputian to manifest the freedom of the bound
Gulliver, who is the spirit of me and everyone and everything that I love and cherish!
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