We are the living links in a life force that moves and plays around and through us, binding the deepest soils with the farthest stars.
-Alan Chadwick
Mystic Dabbles
Induced fits of mystic dabbles,
the cosmos formed by drops of life
like a growing stalactite.
The astral river brimming,
its tributaries at every door,
a land of fertile dreams
and waking melodies.
What joys and sorrows
formed your crust from dust
to be the waking world?
In its zenith
rivers must have flown
with silver,
and glown like starlight
in the sun,
watering plush valley floors
green beyond the green of today,
before the world contained a name.
Its star lit halls of night
spoke only native argentine,
the waxing moon to the sea,
which bowed in undertow majesty,
and broke upon the shore
reflecting the moon in its ebb
and continued till dawn
which rose with brilliant light
and filled the vault of the sky
sapphire blue
with wisps of stratus white.
(To go to sleep in familiar comfort
wrapped in folds of thermal down
I can almost hear the soft lapping of the sea.
Lying stretched out on my bed
staring at the pitch black ceiling
wondering at its fathomless darkness,
when my ceiling becoms a window
to the stars,
lightning held in minute jars,
to be seen nightly in the skies
and loved by all nocturnal eyes.)
by Wonky Donkey
