rocketship

I stare into open space,aware most of the sounds perpetuated within-a hysterical drum,fussy and loud as if anticipating the arrival of something great-this sound echoes through my entire being,reverberating into my toes and the tips of my hair and so even my fingers seem to shiver slightly at the edge. And beyond this,a noise outside-a collective nuisance of bizarre,but unexotic sounds-the call of dullness in its many forms-I close my eyes and sense the greyness,how all these sounds-in and out-collide at first,an animal fiasco as each seeks to assert its dominance-but here,they diverge,somehow-a pure,strange equilibrium in chaos-and now all is still and my mind's eye clear of fog-I see through,or only in,this madness-I am,here? Feeling untied to the earth and ground,now I am alight with joviality-all senses liberated,I seize you with a look of hard decisiveness,and in a few words I win-the convincing is done-but here,I am two,one of me looks after this vessel and all of its worldy needs,the other,is in pursuit of something nearly beyond reach,transcending galaxies or death or time,I am raptured by something I saw or felt once,in contact with the last hair on its tail-this elusive magic,the idea of which sustains a will once in tatters.

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