An epic poem written by Lee Sonogan
Because what was going on was too fast.
Everything was still buzzing,
Or just my memory that is vast?
Indeed that is the case,
Space, time and motion was there,
But number four is the ace,
To make it all fair.
He lets it all go,
Conscious, now the place can really take hold.
Soft as dough,
A little patience and he will be sold.
Inhaling particles into the lungs,
Breathing out atoms within the flux,
Still speaking to himself in tongues,
Scooping out stacked piles of cups.
Humming to the sound of the encompassing pattern,
Incredible focus away from the disconnect between mind and body,
Rings around the nucleus of self-derived Saturn,
Spatial dimensions open up to fully embody.
Pandora’s box is available,
The sprit’s reach is too close,
At this point he is unshakable,
Thermal vision sight that obliterates shadows.
“Eyes not open yet.”,
“I sense a conjuncture to my origin.”,
“If I had to bet.”,
“Or brain cells shrinking due to lack of oxygen?”
Love injects into a ball of gas,
Which I guess is me…
No retort in sass,
Then I was totally free.
Familiar to the Northern Lights,
Traction to gravity fields.
Standing humanoid at great heights,
Knowledge was there to activate the shields.
“Hypothetically, If a picture is worth a million words.”,
“Beams of this northern light must be billions.”.
“Finally no tangled cords.”,
A voice – “congratulations,”.
Looking right at him,
The spitting image of the immortal, slim;
Down to each limb.
The face he made was priceless,
Was he thinking this is my conscience.
Dealing what was upon his likeness,
Weighted heavily on his expressed astonish.
“This is the real one; feelings that are eerie?”
“I know what you seek,” it said,
“I tell you what,” it continued.
Offering of a beverage; breaking bread,
Peace was decreed with what prevailed.
Flavour was the best thing he had ever tasted,
Grateful to be alive.
All the psychoactive juices were not wasted,
Self-death, embracing a swan dive.
“Wisdom is your goal.”.
“Weep in the meaning of scrap.”,
“May God have mercy on your soul,”.
Subjective stress shifting to cut to:
Rejuvenate physicality is at play.
False paradises bid ado,
Eyes behind the head flay.
Adrenaline pumping in resistance,
Liquid drops on his forehead surrounding red earth.
Paths of least assistance,
Chemical dependency; 90 going north!