The day has just begun,
reminding me of all the other days that began,
meager sandwiches of bread on bread.
No meat between the daily routine of tearing oneself from dozy dreams
and returning to bed, somnolent again.
Naught but sand, in fact.
Humanity persists in a directionless line,
voyaging, voyaging toward…
The generations cycle idly like annual flowers.
I travel on a plane in one direction
on a line segment of indeterminable length,
yet I too live in cycles.
In one, eating, another, driving, a third, wanting
The fourth consists of turbulent seas.
Upon these I sail irrationally,
master of my intent and nothing more.
Here consciousness monsters cease their torments as
I anchor in the shallows off mind’s luminescent shore.
Realm where existence is a distant memory,
and cares are but paranoid shadows,
the polarized sweets and sours of life
rain down in confused, fantastic showers.
In this blended up hash of horror and delight—
but the light cycle’s turning,
the end’s come to night.
The day’s just beginning, and streaming through my window
the bright morning extends its daily invitation to life.