The headache leaves, you download
Everything in a new folder.
The illusion of memory intrudes
Thinking separated parts can be put together
Again. Theory and performance clash
Ego comes between and hard to beat but ways
Are present, deep inside are instructions:
You can achieve oneness.
At dawn you were riding a hot air balloon
anticipation of beauty and terror
a landscape of vineyards, mountains, houses in cluster and solitary
one thousand, two thousand feet or higher
the perspective became wider, objects became smaller
even at the highest point a limit of what you could see
a grain of sand of reality or imagination
light and vision, dreams
lingering at the threshold of waking
then the balloon descended
restoring a balance,“the gravity of unadorned song”
doesn’t sound “intelligent or coherent”
of “what just vanished, a shadow moving away”.
After clouds lifted you experienced
a brighter morning, an eternal frame of hope
“a line of beauty”, “ a riddle”,
“a beauty wedded to something meaningful”,
“psst, a secret whisper from an alleyway.”
note: the quoted words are from the book. The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt. The story is rich, superb.